


The Potter Twins and the Prisoner of Azkaban

by arghsigh



Series: The Potter Twins [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Gen, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, Harry Potter Has a Twin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 21:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 106,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arghsigh/pseuds/arghsigh
Summary: Shortly after their thirteenth birthday, Harry and Chrys Potter are on the run from the Ministry of Magic. Luckily, they make it on to the school year without getting arrested, but Hogwarts isn't any less dangerous. There's a large black dog lurking in corners, and happiness-sucking dementors floating above the castle. Oh, and a serial killer is out to get them. Nothing new.





	1. Of Reading and Bleeding

Chrysanthemum Potter breathed in the funny floral scent of her tea, enjoying the heat of the cup against her stomach.

"Any better, Chrys?" Her twin brother Harry asked, hopeful as he stuck his head down from the top bunk. Chrys nodded.

"Loads."

Harry let out a breath of relief. He'd been walking on eggshells ever since Chrys woke up earlier this week to find her bed sheets soaked in blood. After yelling at her about the mess she'd made, Aunt Petunia shoved a couple of menstrual pads her way and left it at that. Chrys wallowed through the pain-and leaks, until she swallowed up her embarrassment and sent a letter to her friend from school, Padma Patil.

In no time at all, Padma sent along a copy of _The __Women's Health Book for Witches_, which included several spells to improve absorbency and predict cycles. Unfortunately, her aunt and uncle had locked Chrys and her brother's wands and schoolbooks in the cupboard under the stairs where the twins used to sleep.

Harry had worried they'd get in trouble for not doing their homework, so Chrys had kept watch as he picked the lock. He had snuck out a couple of their schoolbooks, but they'd left their wands, as magic wasn't allowed outside of school anyway.

Instead, Chrys drank several cups of Padma's mum's hand mixed herbal tea, and was now feeling right as rain.

Meanwhile, Harry was attempting to get some homework done.

"History of Magic now," Harry told her. "We've got an essay on the pointlessness of witch burning."

"That essay is pointless," she muttered. Harry frowned at her. She waved her hand. "I'll do it later." Without her studious friend Hermione around to needle her, Chrys had fallen back into old habits of putting of school work until the last possible moment.

"Well, I'm bored, so I'm doing it now," Harry decided firmly. He accidentally dropped one of his books with a thud.

"Shush!" Chrys frowned and eyed the door. They listened for a moment, making sure their aunt and uncle hadn't woken up. If their aunt and uncle heard them and found the books, Chrys and Harry risked being locked up without food.

Uncle Vernon was already on edge from a phone call the twins had received from their friend Ron Weasley.

Poor Ron had been raised as a wizard and had no idea how to deal with telephones. His best guest seemed to be to shout as loudly as possible. Chrys might have found this amusing, if Uncle Vernon hadn't been the one to pick up the phone.

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE—PEOPLE LIKE YOU!" Uncle Vernon had roared. Aunt Petunia peered through the curtains to make sure none of the neighbors were suspicious that anything out of the ordinary was happening in Number 4 Privet Drive.

"You complain when we use Hedwig, but when we try to communicate the 'normal' way, that's no good either," Chrys had grumbled. Hedwig was the twins' owl, who delivered letters in typical wizarding fashion. While the wizarding idea of normal was a lot different than the muggle idea of normal, Chrys figured as long as nobody was hurting each other, why not let them do as they liked? Vernon and Petunia Dursley did not agree.

Uncle Vernon turned a blotchy red.

He had been suspicious of the package Chrys received from Padma, only to get incredibly flustered when he opened it and found it filled with 'women's things.' He'd let Chrys keep the package, but his embarrassment hadn't been enough to stop him from banning the twins from any further communication with their wizarding fellows.

Uncle Vernon allowed Hedwig out, but only at night, after he'd carefully checked she wasn't carrying anything. (And this was only after she'd put up a fuss, causing a racket when locked in her cage).

"Chrys," Harry said suddenly. "Do you hear that?" She tilted her head. It was the sound of wings outside. Harry grinned. "Hedwig's back!" He ran over to the window. Chrys nearly spilled her tea as she jumped up to join him. Harry threw the window open. There was Hedwig, but she wasn't alone. Hedwig and another owl were supporting a third, who appeared to be passed out. They flew inside and landed on the desk, next to Hedwig's cage.

"It's Errol." Chrys recognized the Weasley family's elderly bird. Harry untied the packages from the owls' legs, as Chrys coaxed Errol to drink some water from Hedwig's bowl. The third owl, which was carrying letters marked with the Hogwarts school crest, flew off into the night as soon as Harry detangled him from his delivery. Hedwig settled down next to Errol. Harry smiled and stroked her feathers. Hedwig gave his fingers an affectionate nip. "Let's open Ron's first," Chrys suggested.

"Alright," Harry agreed. His hands shook with excitement as he opened the envelope. A letter and a newspaper clipping fell out when he tipped it upside down.

Together, they read the article. Mr. Weasley had won the _Daily Prophet_ Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

"I can't think of anyone more deserving," Harry said quietly. Chrys nodded. She knew money was a sore point for Ron. Mrs. Weasley did her best, but there was only so much coupons and hand-me-downs could do for seven children.

Mr. Weasley was quoted in the article, saying they were using the money to visit their eldest son, Bill, in Egypt, where he worked as a curse breaker.

The article also featured a photograph of the whole family (including Ron's rat, Scabbers, sitting on his shoulder) standing in front of a pyramid.

Harry moved on to Ron's letter.

_Dear Harry and Chrys,_

_Happy birthday!_

_Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted._

Chrys snorted.

_It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs, and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them._

Chrys, who enjoyed comparing the mythology she read in her childhood to the real-life magic of the wizarding world, resolved to find a book on wizarding Egypt as soon as possible. Perhaps Hermione would have one.

_Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff_.

Chrys frowned. After being possessed by the memory of a younger version of the dark wizard Lord Voldemort last year, Chrys thought Ginny had seen a lot worse than mutant skeletons. Still, Chrys understood Mrs. Weasley's feelings. Ginny was her youngest child, and had already been through so much. Chrys also wanted to protect any innocence she had left.

_I couldn't believe when dad on the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year._

"Good," Harry said. After Ron's wand had broken last year, it was prone to backfiring, which made it quite difficult for Ron to cast any spells without failing miserably.

_We'll be back about a week before term starts, and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and out new books. Any chance of meeting you there?_

_Don't let the muggles get you down!_

_Try and come to London,_

_Ron_

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week._

"Not surprising," Chrys thought. Percy was a great lover of the rules, and enforcing them.

"Hmm." Harry nodded. He picked up the two parcels that had come with the letter, tossing the one labeled: _Chrys_, to her. Chrys could see immediately that it was a book, and beamed widely when she saw the title: _Egyptian Myths: Fact or Fiction?_ She'd read another book by this author, and really liked it.

_Chrys, _

_It was a toss up between this and some ancient Egyptian ink and parchment (papyrus, it's called), but Percy reckoned you'd like the book better._

_If you don't like it, blame him._

_See you soon,_

_Ron._

Chrys laughed. "That's nice," Harry commented, leaning over her shoulder to read her note.

"What's yours?" She looked over at his note, and the mysterious glass spinning-top that accompanied it. According to Ron's note, it was a Pocket Sneakoscope, which lit up and spun when there was someone untrustworthy around. _Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup._

Chrys laughed again. Harry put a finger on his lips. Chrys glanced at their cousin Dudley's alarm clock, which they'd found in the pile of broken and discarded things in this room, which had previously been Dudley's storage room. Even with the crack across the glass, it still worked nicely.

"One o'clock," Harry noted. "We've been thirteen years old for a whole hour. I hadn't even realized…" Chrys glanced at herself in the nearby mirror. She didn't look any different. Her messy brown hair was maybe a bit longer, up to her hips now. Harry's black fringe was starting to cover his eyes, but it wasn't entirely his fault. Potter hair had a mind of its own.

"Happy birthday, Harry." She reached under her bed and pulled out the traditional homemade birthday card. This year she'd drawn many of their friends: nearly the entire Weasley family, Hermione, Hagrid the Hogwarts gamekeeper, and even Hedwig. Harry grinned, though he looked a little sad. He missed them.

"Brilliant, as always." He handed her a brown paper bag. She opened it and took a deep sniff of the muggle licorice. She loved the wizarding licorice wands, but muggle sweets were just as good, really.

"Bet you this one's from Hermione," Chrys figured, eyeing the package Hedwig had carried in. Hedwig blinked wisely at her.

As Harry opened the letter, Chrys saw that it was Hermione's handwriting on the note.

_Dear Chrys and Harry,_

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're alright._

Chrys and Harry grimaced. Hermione was the cleverest person they knew, and even she hadn't figured out how nasty the Durselys truly were. Of course, Harry and Chrys had worked to keep this secret on purpose, not wanting to worry anyone…

_I'm on holiday in France at the moment, and I didn't know how I was doing to send this to you—what if they'd opened it at customs?_

This made Harry and Chrys sit up straighter in curiosity.

—_but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change, _

"Thank you," Harry said earnestly, smiling at Hedwig. Hedwig cooed quietly, as if she knew not to disturb the Dursleys.

_other than licorice and Chrys' lovely handmade birthday card, of course! I bought Harry's present by owl-order. There was an advertisement in the _Daily Prophet_ (I've been getting it delivered. It's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous—the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

Chrys resolved to let Hermione borrow her book, though she knew Hermione would prefer less sensational writing.

_There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out. I hope it's not too long—it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for._

"Only Hermione," Harry thought, shaking his head with a fond smile on his face.

_Chrys, please don't start your homework too late. Harry, hold her to it, please._

Harry shot a grin at Chrys, who kicked him lightly.

_Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione _

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really please. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

Harry chuckled quietly. He and Chrys sat down on her bed to open their presents.

_Chrys, _

_I've had a letter (don't worry, it was very discreet!) from Padma Patil. Anyway, I thought you could use some chocolate. Don't tell my parents._

Hermione's parents were both dentists. They most certainly wouldn't approve of what was the largest chocolate bar Chrys had ever seen.

_Sorry for the lack of originality of the other part of your gift, but I thought you could use some more after Dean lost the last one._

Chrys nodded appreciatively at the second bottle of color changing ink Hermione had gotten her.

_Hope you're well._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

Chrys instinctively covered her note as Harry leaned over to look.

"It's private," she said hurriedly, feeling her face go hot. Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"Okay…" He held up a black leather case that said _Broomstick Servicing Kit _on it. "Mine isn't." He nodded happily. "Hermione's really outdone herself this time."

"Hmm mm." Chrys opened her chocolate and started munching at it. Harry looked through his kit for a moment, before turning to the last parcel.

"It's from Hagrid!" He excitedly went to unwrap it, but paused, noticing how the package was shaking. "Oh… well… I know Hagrid would never send us anything dangerous on purpose, but…"

"…But Hagrid has an odd idea of what is and isn't dangerous," Chrys finished for him. She looked around for a weapon and then held her heavy Egypt book up. "I'm ready when you are."

"Right." Harry poised to open it. "One, two, three!" He opened the package, which was revealed to be some sort of living book. The book snarled and started snapping. Harry reacted automatically and kicked it hard off the bed. It kept snapping around in circles, while Hedwig looked on disapprovingly.

Chrys whacked at it with her Egypt book when it tried to snap at Harry's ankles. While it was distracted, Harry looked around wildly and snatched up a belt from the floor.

He jumped on top of the book, flattening it and struggling to wrap the belt around it. Once he succeeded, he sat up, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then he looked warily at the second parcel from Hagrid, identical to the first. Chrys remembered the bungee cord she'd found in Dudley's things the other day, and motioned for it. Harry handed it over, and she tied her book up without unwrapping it.

Having already unwrapped his, Harry read the title, "_Monster Book of Monsters_." He shook his head. "No kidding… what does the card say?"

"_Dear Harry and Chrys_," Chrys read. "_Happy birthday! Think you might find these useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you. Hope the muggles are treating you alright. All the best, Hagrid_." She tilted her head. "You know, we start Care of Magical Creatures this year…"

"Great," Harry said unenthusiastically. "Terrific."

"One left each." Chrys held up the letters from Hogwarts. Harry held up his hands and she tossed his at him, nearly missing but for his quick reflexes.

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

Okay, standard information. Frankly, Chrys thought it was a waste of ink and time to write this.

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

Chrys wilted. This was new and exciting information—information which she could do nothing about. The Dursleys were as likely to sign the permission slips as they were to suddenly take up interpretive dance.

"We'd better get some rest," Harry decided, his expression echoing much of what she was feeling. "We'll deal with it in the morning."


	2. Of Pressure and Pop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Aunt Marge being physically and emotionally abusive. Let me know if I should mention anything else up here, for this, or anything other chapters I post.

The next morning Chrys and Harry had toast for breakfast. Dudley and Uncle Vernon gobbled down plates of eggs, bacon and sausage.

"Poor chair," Chrys said dolefully, watching as the chair beneath their cousin shook and threaten to buckle. Harry nodded.

"At least when he had to walk to the living room to get to the television, that gave him a bit of exercise."

He turned to the new, second television Uncle Vernon had purchased for the kitchen.

"…_The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous,_" the reporter continued announcing the escape of a dangerous convict from prison. _"A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."_

"No need to tell us _he's_ no good," Uncle Vernon thought, giving the convict a disgusted glance over the top of his newspaper. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!" Uncle Vernon glanced at Harry, whose messy hair was a great sense of perpetual annoyance to him.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, eyeing the gaunt and tangle-haired prisoner.

"Yeah, well, I feel well groomed compared to him," he muttered to Chrys.

"Well, I expect prisoners don't get much chance to keep clean… probably." It wasn't as if she knew much about prison, but it certainly didn't sound pleasant.

"Which is why we shouldn't bother with the prison system in the first place," Uncle Vernon thought. Chrys grimaced. She hadn't known he was listening. "When will they learn, that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

"Very true," Aunt Petunia without really listening. She was focused on the gap between the curtains, as if she'd spot the criminal right then and there.

Uncle Vernon glanced at his watch.

"I'd better be off, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

Harry's head snapped up so fast Chrys thought he might've gotten whiplash.

"Aunt Marge? Sh-she's not coming here, is she?"

Chrys grimaced in sympathy. It was some small consolation that Aunt Marge was no blood relative of theirs (Marge was Vernon's sister, while their mother had been Petunia's sister). It was a larger consolation that Aunt Marge lived out in the country, and rarely came to visit, as she couldn't bear to leave the several large dogs she owned.

Unfortunately, this was not enough to stop Aunt Marge from terrorizing the twins whenever she did come to visit.

The earliest memory Chrys had of her was of Dudley's fifth birthday. Aunt Marge had knocked Harry down with her cane, in order to stop Harry from beating Dudley at musical chairs. Chrys had thrown a lump of cake at Aunt Marge, and both twins had been locked in the cupboard for a week.

A few years later, Aunt Marge bought a computerized robot for Dudley's Christmas present. Harry had gotten a box of dog biscuits, and Chrys got a collar.

On her last visit, when they were ten, Aunt Marge brought along her favorite dog, Ripper. Chrys was ashamed to admit that she'd spent much of the visit hiding behind Aunt Petunia, who was about as fond of the Rottweiler as she was of Chrys. Aunt Petunia and Chrys tried their best to avoid Ripper. Harry was not so lucky. He accidentally stepped on the dog's tail. Ripper chased him up a tree. Between Dudley's laughter, and Aunt Marge's refusal to call the dog off, Chrys felt her rage build up to an unbearable pressure. Around midnight, red sparks went off, startling Ripper and chasing him off. _Now_ Chrys knew it must have been accidental magic, but _at the time_, Aunt Marge insisted Chrys must have set off a firework, and beat Chrys with her cane until she was too sore to sit.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon informed them. "And while we're on the subject…" He pointed a pudgy finger at Harry and Chrys in turn. "We need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her." Dudley grinned. Chrys gave him a hard look. His grin faltered slightly. "Firstly, you will both keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."

"Alright, if she does when she's talking to me," Harry grumbled.

"Secondly," Uncle Vernon continued, luckily ignoring Harry's reply. "As Marge doesn't know anything about your _abnormality_, I don't want any—any _funny_ stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?"

"I will if she does," Harry said, grinding his teeth. Chrys shot him a warning look.

"And thirdly, we've told Marge that you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys—and the sister institute for girls, respectively."

"What?" Harry burst out. Chrys shrugged.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, or there will be trouble," Uncle Vernon told them. Harry's brown skin went a bit grey with anger.

"What a lovely birthday present," he said under his breath.

"Well, Petunia…" Uncle Vernon glanced at his watch again. "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," Dudley said, having gotten bored of Uncle Vernon's lecture, and returned his attention to the television.

"Duddy's going to make himself smart for his auntie," Aunt Petunia said, proudly smoothing back Dudley's hair. How? Chrys wondered. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow tie." Chrys snorted and then quickly avoided Aunt Petunia's sharp glance. Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on the shoulder.

"See you in a bit then." He walked out into the hall. Harry followed quickly after him. Aunt Petunia and Chrys blinked at each other in surprise. Aunt Petunia stood up to peek around the corner. Chrys grabbed the rest of Harry's toast and shoved it in her pocket before following.

"I'm not taking _you_," Uncle Vernon snapped.

"As if I wanted to come," Harry said, his voice forcibly calm. "I want to ask you something." Uncle Vernon squinted at him. The Dursleys did not like questions. "Third years at Hog—at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes."

Chrys blinked, suddenly understanding where Harry was going with this.

Uncle Vernon did not. "So?"

"I need you to sign the permission forms," Harry said quickly.

"And why should I do that?" Uncle Vernon wondered, clearly relishing the chance to hold something over Harry's head.

"Well," Harry said, slowly this time. "It'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits—"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," Uncle Vernon corrected him in a hiss.

"Exactly. It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip?"

"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" Uncle Vernon growled, holding up his fist. Aunt Petunia and Chrys winced as they listened. Aunt Petunia preferred carefully manicured insults to physical confrontation. Chrys was perfectly willing to bite and scratch anyone who so much as touched a hair on Harry's head—but she'd rather it not come to that.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," Harry pointed out. Uncle Vernon slowly lowered his fist. "But, if you sign my permission form, I swear I'll remember where I'm supposed to go to school, and I'll act like a mug—like I'm normal, and everything."

"Right," Uncle Vernon said, a vein throbbing in his temple. "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy form."

"And that goes for Chrys too," Harry said firmly. Uncle Vernon frowned.

"As long as she doesn't set off anymore fireworks…" He paused. "Or… whatever that was." Harry nodded quickly as Uncle Vernon left, slamming the door behind him. Aunt Petunia and Chrys quickly turned back into the kitchen, pretending they hadn't been listening.

"I don't supposed you'd just sign it and save us the trouble?" Chrys wondered, momentarily dropping the pretense. Aunt Petunia frowned, hard.

"You'll do as your uncle says."

Chrys sighed.

She met Harry upstairs. She frowned as he removed a loose floorboard, stuffing all of their presents and schoolbooks underneath.

"What are you doing?" She asked, handing him the rest of his toast.

"Preparing to live like a muggle," he told her, between bites. "You heard Uncle Vernon, we'll have to be extra careful if we want to go to Hogsmeade."

"But—"

"Nope, I'm not taking any chances." He unlocked Hedwig's cage. She looked up at him sleepily. "Hedwig, you're going to have to clear off for a week."

Chrys frowned. "Harry…"

"Go with Errol," he continued to Hedwig, motioning at Errol, who was still sleeping next to her. "Ron'll look after you. I'll write him a note, explaining." Hedwig and Chrys stared at him. "Don't look at me like that, both of you. It's not my fault. This is the only way."

"I'll write the note," Chrys said grumpily. Harry nodded.

_Dear Ron,_

_Harry is being an idiot. He's convinced the only way we're getting our Hogsmeade permission slips signed is if we act like good little muggles while our horrid aunt visits. _

_You know how it is when he gets like this—impossible to talk him out of it._

_So, please look after Hedwig for us. If she really likes you, she might bring you some dead mice._

_Cheers,_

_Chrys_

Ten minutes later, the owls were gone, and Aunt Petunia was trying to pull a comb through Chrys' tangled hair.

The comb broke. Chrys hunched over.

"Sit up straight!" Aunt Petunia squawked. She tugged the comb out with some difficulty. Then they heard the sound of Uncle Vernon's car turning up the driveway. "Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.

Harry reluctantly did so.

"Where's my Dudders?" Aunt Marge cried out, dropping her suitcases and flinging her arms out. Marge knocked into the door, trapping Harry between it and the wall. Dudley waddled over to greet her. Aunt Petunia'd had (subjectively) some more success with Dudley's hair, which she'd greased back. He was nearly strangled by his bow tie, but Aunt Petunia seemed to find the result very handsome—well, she had married Uncle Vernon, after all. Aunt Marge shoved her suitcase at Harry, who had just escaped from behind the door. Dudley put up with Aunt Marge's kisses and hug, grinning as he stared down at the twenty-pound note in his hand. "Petunia!" Aunt Marge strode over to her, nearly head butting her as she kissed her cheek.

Uncle Vernon smiled, shutting the door behind them.

"Tea, Marge?" He looked down at Ripper, who was staring suspiciously at Chrys across the room. He must remember her. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," Aunt Marge told him. Aunt Petunia grimaced behind her back. Chrys quickly slipped away while Ripper was distracted by the commotion of people moving into the kitchen.

She and Harry heaved Aunt Marge's two large suitcases up to the spare bedroom. Chrys wished they could use magic. Harry thought it was better this way, more in character with their 'ordinary muggle' roles. To her further distaste, Harry insisted on going back down to the kitchen.

"Why?" Chrys groaned. "Everyone will be happier without us there."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I can't lie to her about St. Whatsits—"

"St. Brutus's," Chrys reminded him, rolling her eyes.

"…If we're not in the same room as her," Harry finished.

"Yeah, but if we say something to upset her—which is statistically highly likely…" Chrys touched her bottom at the memory, wincing.

Harry ran his hand through his hair.

"Er, maybe you're too old for that?"

"Right, at this age being rude is probably a capital punishment in her eyes," Chrys grumbled as they moved down the stairs.

At least Aunt Petunia wasn't any happier than they were. Ripper was splashing tea all over her (previously) clean floor.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked conversationally.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," Marge said, her voice booming through the room. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

At that moment, Ripper spotted the twins, and let out a low growl.

Aunt Marge turned towards them. Chrys waved weakly.

"Er, hello Aunt Marge. Did you have a pleasant train ride?"

"You're still here!" Marge barked, displeased.

Yes, Chrys was displeased with that as well.

"Yes," Harry answered shortly.

"Don't you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Aunt Marge barked. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have done straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on _my_ doorstep." Chrys wondered if that would've been better for all of them… except, at an orphanage, she may have been separated from Harry. She frowned. "Don't you scowl at me—insolent girl!" Aunt Marge spat. "You would have thought I'd knocked some manners into you the last time I saw you." Chrys winced, and Harry shifted slightly in front of her. Aunt Marge looked at Uncle Vernon. "Where is it that you sent them again, Vernon?"

"The St. Brutus schools," Uncle Vernon said quickly. "First rate institutions for hopeless cases."

"I see." Aunt Marge frowned. "However, I find that girls institutions can sometimes be too soft on their pupils—do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, girl?"

Chrys felt somewhat frozen. Over Aunt Marge's shoulder, Uncle Vernon gave her a pointed look. Harry reached over and briefly squeezed her hand.

"Er, yes," Chrys said. "They, er, use it a lot."

"Excellent." Aunt Marge nodded to herself. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good trashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred." She studied Chrys. "Although, in some _special _cases, the number of beatings should be higher than others. Are you beaten often?"

"Yes," Chrys said in a clipped tone.

Aunt Marge squinted. "I still don't like your tone, girl. If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this girl's case."

Harry was squeezing his hands into fists.

Uncle Vernon noticed and promptly changed the topic of conversation.

"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

The next couple of days, Aunt Marge made it her business to keep Chrys in the room with her at all times, so she could give Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon suggestions on how to deal more firmly with her.

"Petunia, you're fairly well put together, I do wish you could do something about the girl's hair," Aunt Marge complained.

"Oh, yes…" Aunt Petunia shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Aunt Marge patted her hand so hard Aunt Petunia winced.

"You musn't blame yourself," Aunt Marge continued. "If there's something rotten on the _inside_, there's nothing anyone can do about it." Harry was shaking with anger. Chrys put a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "It's one of the basic rules of breeding." Aunt Marge took a sip of her wine. "It there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup—"

Suddenly Aunt Marge's wine glass exploded in her hand.

Chrys shot Harry a worried look.

Wine dripped off Aunt Marge's face as Aunt Petunia rushed to bring her a napkin.

"Marge! Marge, are you alright?"

"Not to worry," Marge said, wiping her face. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip." Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shot Harry suspicious looks. Harry got up stiffly, and marched out of the room. Chrys went to follow, but Aunt Marge waved her hand. "Nonsense, girl. There's no need to trail after him like a lost duckling." She turned to Aunt Petunia. "It really isn't healthy for them to be so close to each other, Petunia. I assume the St. Brutus schools have very strict rules about not mingling?"

"Of-of course," Uncle Vernon said quickly. "They won't see each other at all once the summer ends."

"Good…" Aunt Marge smirked triumphantly at the anxious look on Chrys' face.

After the wine made Aunt Marge sleepy enough to turn in for bed, Chrys found Harry sitting in their room with the lights off.

She sighed. "It's fine." She switched on the light. Harry blinked.

"Is it? I did magic. If the Ministry catches wind of it, I'll be expelled," he reminded her. Her stomach twisted. Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without Harry. He couldn't be expelled.

"I-it was accidental magic, like when we were kids," she said. "Surely the ministry can tell the difference?" Harry grimaced, not looking so sure of this.

"I'll just try and think of something else whenever she goes off on you."

Harry memorized his broom kit manual and recited it in his head whenever Marge did something infuriating, which was quite often.

This method seemed to work, somewhat.

"Are you sure the boy isn't damaged in the head?" Aunt Marge wondered, eyeing the blank look on Harry's face. Chrys thought he must be on the broom polishing section by now.

"Er…" Uncle Vernon didn't really have an answer for that.

And things only got worse that night after several bottles of wine. Aunt Marge was already quite red in the face, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to notice as he brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

She chuckled. "Just a small one, then," she told him. He poured. "A bit more than that…" He poured. "And a bit more…" He poured, nearly overflowing the glass. "That's the ticket." Dudley helped himself to his fourth piece of pie. Chrys watched him, slightly jealous, as she'd only been allowed one skinny slice. Weirdly enough, Aunt Petunia wasn't a bad cook. Aunt Petunia noticed Chrys' hungry look, and smiled superiorly over the rim of her coffee cup. Chrys glanced at Harry. He was studying the ceiling with extreme interest. "Ah… Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…" She let out a watery belch. Aunt Petunia struggled to keep her expression polite. "Pardon me." She patted the stretching tweed of her suit jacket. Then she winked at Dudley. "But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy—you'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father." Harry looked like he was wondering exactly what proper sized was in Aunt Marge's mind. Uncle Vernon gave him a nervous glance.

"More brandy, Marge?"

"Yes, I'll have a spot more, Vernon." She nodded as he poured her a full glass. "Now, this one…" She jerked her head at Harry. Chrys frowned. "This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred." Chrys didn't like dogs much, but she was sure even the Rippers of the world didn't deserve to be drowned. Aunt Marge would probably love to drown Harry. Chrys would love to punch her in the face—and after all, wasn't that a perfectly normal, muggle reaction? "It all comes down to blood," Marge continued. "As I was saying the other day, bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia." She patted Petunia's shoulder. Aunt Petunia wobbled slightly. "But your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result, right in front of us." Harry was clenching his jaw. Chrys gave him an imploring look. "This Potter…" Marge poured herself a third glass of brandy, splashing over the tablecloth. Aunt Petunia had to close her eyes for a moment. "You never told me what he did?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked nervously at each other. Dudley glanced up from his pie, finally seeming to sense the tension in the air.

"He didn't work," Uncle Vernon said quickly. Harry's eyes were about to bore a hole into Aunt Marge's face. Uncle Vernon tried to catch his eye. "Unemployed."

Chrys had no idea what her father had done for a living… but he was supposed to have been clever, and personable, and there was a war on. She couldn't imagine him sitting around doing nothing.

"As I expected!" Marge cried out, wiping a bit of brandy that had dribbled onto her double chin. "A no account, good for nothing, lazy scrounger who—"

"He was not," Harry said suddenly, standing up. The silence was thick. Chrys gripped her brother's arm, but he pushed her off.

"More brandy!" A very pale Uncle Vernon shouted. Chrys wasn't sure that was the solution. "You, boy, go to bed."

"Yes," Chrys said agreeably. She stood up and tried to drag Harry out of the room, but he stood his ground.

"To bed," Uncle Vernon repeated.

"No, Vernon." Marge hiccuped and stared at Harry. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves kill in a car crash—drunk, I expect—"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" Harry boomed.

"Harry," Chrys said sharply. "Don't!"

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" Marge screeched.

"Please, be quiet, Aunt Marge," Chrys begged her. Marge's nostrils flared.

"Why should I? You stupid girl. Know your place!" Marge backhanded Chrys so hard that Chrys fell back on the floor. Harry growled. Aunt Petunia's brow furrowed. "Ungrateful little—"

Marge stopped speaking suddenly. Her whole body was swelling. Her mouth was stretched tight, like a frog's lips. For a moment, Chrys wondered if Marge was having an allergic reaction—however the rate and extent at which she was swelling just wasn't, well, normal.

Her jacket buttons popped as she continued to expand.

"Marge!" Uncle Vernon shouted. He and Aunt Petunia jumped up, grabbing at Marge as her rotund body rose off the chair, floating upwards like a balloon. Dudley sat alone at the table, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Ripper ran around the room, barking in confusion. "No…!" Uncle Vernon cried out. Marge's newfound buoyancy was pulling the three adult Dursleys forward.

Dudley dropped his fork. "Mummy…?"

Ripper jumped up and latched onto Uncle Vernon's leg with his teeth. Uncle Vernon let out a howl of pain.

Harry took advantage of the situation to reach over and pull Chrys to her feet.

"Alright?" He gently touched her cheek. She winced. He frowned.

"We've got to go," Chrys realized, taking his hand. He nodded and they ran out of the room, straight to their cupboard under the stairs. The door swung open by itself. Chrys stared as Harry heaved their trunks into the hallway.

"Get those outside, I'll get the rest of our stuff." He ran upstairs.

Figuring it didn't matter any longer Chrys levitated the trunks outside.

"_Wingardium leviosa…_"

Harry was just walking out the front door, with Hedwig's empty cage and a pillowcase of stuff—when Uncle Vernon's voice followed.

"COME BACK IN! COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

Harry picked up the pace. Uncle Vernon limped after him. His leg was a bloody mess. Chrys found she didn't care, especially what with the murderous glare Uncle Vernon was giving Harry.

"_Flipendo_!" Chrys shouted, pointing her wand at Uncle Vernon.

Uncle Vernon was blasted backwards down the hallway.

"Nice one," Harry said appreciatively, as he attached Hedwig's cage to his trunk.


	3. Of a Midnight Bus and a Minister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ariel Dawson for the comment! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chrys slumped onto a low wall on Magnolia Crescent.

"Sorry." She rubbed her arms, sore from pulling her trunk. "Madam Pomfrey is right, I've got to start exercising." Harry smiled distractedly, coming to sit next to her. "You're still furious," she noted. He blinked.

"Well, yes." He pulled his knees up to his chest." She said all those horrible things about us, and our parents—and she hit you!"

Chrys shrugged. "It's nothing new, Harry."

"Yeah, well, maybe I've finally had enough of it. I'm happy to leave." He grimaced. "And anyhow, we may not have a choice. Whatever it was I did to Marge—that's serious magic. I'm bound to be expelled now." He leaned his chin on knees. "I wondered if I'll be arrested? Or maybe, just banished from the wizarding world." Chrys frowned. "Hey." He looked at her suddenly. "Do you have any money?"

"Nothing muggle… A couple of galleons in the bottom of my trunk, I think."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Me too."

"Why? What are you planning?"

"I don't know… I thought, maybe we could cover ourselves in the invisibility cloak and fly to London, grab some money from Gringotts and start a life on the run." He shook his head. "…But my broom won't take the weight of both of us and our trunks."

"… I've read about a shrinking spell, but I can't quite remember…" Chrys' brow furrowed. Harry hummed.

"So, all caution to the wind, we'll just do magic as we please?"

Chrys sighed. "I don't see what else there is to do. I mean…" She paused suddenly, frowning over Harry's shoulder.

"What is it?"

"I thought I saw something…"

"_Lumos_," they said in unison. Harry and Chrys stared into the alley. The wand light glinted over the black fur of a dog the size of a small bear.

"Not another dog," Chrys muttered, raising her wand high, trying to think of a spell. Then a loud bang sounded. She yelped. A bright light rushed towards them. Harry tugged her out of the way and promptly fell over.

Chrys squinted.

The light revealed itself to be headlights—the headlights of a triple-decker bus, purple, with gold lettering on the windshield spelling out: _The Knight Bus_.

"Have I knocked my head and gone silly?" Harry wondered quietly. Then the door opened, and a young man with an unfortunate amount of spots on his face popped his head out. He was dressed in a purple uniform.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," the conductor recited in a bored tone. "Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this eve…" Stan trailed off, staring at Harry who was still sitting on the ground. Chrys reached down and pulled him up. "What were you doin' down there?"

"Fell over," Harry answered shortly.

Stan sniggered. "'Choo fall over for?"

Chrys rolled her eyes. "He didn't do it on purpose." She leaned over, tutting as she saw the tear in his jeans, and the scrape on his knee. Harry, meanwhile, twisted his head around, looking back in the direction they'd last seen the big black dog. Of course, it was gone.

"Choo lookin' at?" Stand wondered.

"Nothing," Harry said truthfully. Stan squinted in the bright headlights, at Harry's forehead.

"Woss that on your 'ead?"

"Nothing," Chrys repeated hurriedly, sweeping his fringe over his forehead.

Stan frowned. "Woss your name?"

"Neville Longbottom," Harry said hurriedly.

Chrys blinked as Stan looked at her.

"Ah, Mary Shelley," she lied. Harry looked at her. She shrugged. She'd recently read _Frankenstein_.

"So," Harry continued before Stan could get another word in edgewise. "You said this bus goes _anywhere?_"

"Yep," Stan said, proud. "Anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere'… you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand, dincha?"

"Oh yeah, that was me," Chrys lied. "Listen, Stan, how much to get to London?"

"Eleven sickles each," Stan told her. "But for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toothbrush in the color of your choice." Chrys thought a hot water bottle could be good for the cramps that should return later this month. And besides, she hadn't had time to pack a toothbrush. She rummaged in her trunk and gave Stan enough for two deluxe packages.

Chrys let Harry and Stan pull the trunks up into the Knight Bus, which appeared to be a bit of a pun. 

Instead of seats, there were half a dozen brass bed stands, each with their own curtain-covered window.

"Not now, thank you. I'm pickling slugs," a wizard in a nightcap mumbled. He promptly rolled over and started snoring.

"You 'ave this one, an' this one," Stan said quietly, giving Harry and Chrys the two beds closest to the driver's seat. Stan nodded at the man behind the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. Ern, this is Neville Longbottom an' Mary Shelley." Ernie peered down at them through his thick glasses and nodded. Harry gulped and flattened his fringe over his forehead again. "Take 'er away, Ern," Stan said, plopping down in an armchair towards the front.

There was a bang and Harry fell back into his bed. Chrys held on tightly to her bed stand and maneuvered her way up onto the mattress. She held her stomach, hoping it would settle down as Harry straightened up, looking in amazement out the window.

"This is where we were before you flagged us down," Stan told Harry, seeming to enjoy Harry's wonder. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar."

"How come the muggles don't hear the bus?" Harry wondered. Chrys hugged her knees against her chest, rolling back and forth with the swaying of the bus.

"Them!" Stan waved his hand. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," Ern told him. "We'll be in Albergavenny in a minute." Stan disappeared up one of the staircases. He returned a moment later, with the very ill looking Madam Marsh. Chrys gave her a sympathetic look as the bus jerked to a stop and Madam Marsh hurriedly held a handkerchief up to her mouth.

Chrys drifted in and out of consciousness, always aware of the turmoil in her stomach.

"That man!" Harry said suddenly. "He was on the muggle news!" Chrys gingerly opened her eyes and spotted the familiar looking Sirius Black on the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ that Stan was reading.

"Course 'e was on the muggle news, Neville, where 'ave you been?" Stan wondered, looking at Harry like he was a bit slow.

"Are you finished with that?" Chrys asked as politely as her stomach would allow. "Can I have…" She put a hand over her mouth.

"Sure, Mary." Stan gave her a pitying look and handed her the paper. "Though I don' know the reading will 'elp your stomach none."

"I'll risk it," Chrys muttered. Harry got up and moved over to sit on the side of her bed so they could read together. Apparently Sirius Black was a dangerous criminal who had escaped Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was urging the magical community to remain calm… even though the Ministry had no clue as to where Black had gone. Chrys snorted. Considering he had arrested the innocent Hagrid last year only to save face, Chrys didn't have much faith in the minister… and apparently she wasn't the only one.

_Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

"_Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it—who'd believe it if he did?"_

_While muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

"Oo're you two, anyway?" Stan wondered, watching Harry steady Chrys as the bus turned.

"We're… travelers," Chrys said lamely.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, um… so, this Sirius Black murdered thirteen people with one curse?" He said, handing Stan back the paper. Sounded like very dark magic indeed.

"Yep, in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it cause, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar."

Stan turned his armchair a bit to get a better look at Harry.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-know-oo," Stan told him solemnly.

"What, Voldemort?" Harry asked, clearly not thinking. Stan went white as milk. Ern jerked the steering wheel, and Chrys saw a bit of what Harry must have been so interested out the window earlier. A whole barn house magically leapt out of the way when Ern failed to move around it.

"You outta your tree?" Stan yelped. "Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry about that." Chrys kicked Harry's shin. Harry winced. "He's a bit slow… you were saying?"

"Wha' wuz I sayin'…?" Stan scratched his head confusedly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast…"

"You were saying that Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who," Harry reminded him, carefully this time.

"Yeah." Stan rubbed his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-Oo, they say. Anyway, when those little Potter twins got the better of You-Know-Oo…" Harry brushed his hair over his forehead again. "All You-Know-Oos supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-Oo gone…" Not quite gone, Chrys thought, but she wasn't about to tell Stan and his racing heart that. "They came quiet, but not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second in command once You-know-Oo 'ad taken over… Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of muggles, an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen muggles what got in the way." Chrys shook her head in disbelief. 'Orrible, eh?" Stan's voice dropped to a low whisper. "An' you know hat Black did then?"

"What?" Harry wanted to know, playing along with Stan's dramatics.

"Laughed," Stan told them. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," Ern thought quietly. Chrys recalled the look of horror in Hagrid's eyes when Fudge told him he was going to Azkaban. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you… after what he did…"

"They 'ah a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan went on. "'Ole street blown up an' all them muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," Ernie recalled.

"An' now 'e's out," Stan said, staring at the picture of Black's face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frighten', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guard, eh, Ern?"

Ernie shuddered. "Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lab. Them Azkban guards give me the collywobbles."

Chrys wondered what exactly was so off about the Azkaban guards, but didn't dare ask as Ernie stared straight ahead, and Stan reluctantly folded up the paper.

After a while, Chrys and Harry were the only two passengers left.

"Right then, Neville an' Mary," Stan said, clapping his hands. "Whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," Harry said, frowning, and obviously still brooding about something.

"Righto."

With another bang and a slam of the breaks they jerked to a stop in front of the Leaky Cauldron, the run down pub in front of the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Thanks," Harry said to Ern. Stan helped him get the trunks down onto the pavement. "Well…" Harry paused, following Stan's wide-eyed gaze.

"There you two are," a relieved voice said. Chrys frowned at the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. She did not like the way he was gripping Harry's shoulder.

"Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Cme 'ere!" Stan shouted excitedly.

"What didja need with Neville, Minister?" Stan wondered, leaping down next to them.

"Neville?" Fudge's brow furrowed. "This is Harry Potter."

"I knew it!" Stan turned and looked at Chrys. "An' you mus' be—"

"Not Mary Shelley," she admitted. "You really must catch up on your muggle literature, Stan," she said dryly.

"Wha—"

"Yes, well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked them up, but Mr. and Miss Potter have some business with me, inside the Leaky Cauldron." Fudge nudged Harry forward and Chrys followed.

She spotted another familiar face, Tom, the toothless bartender.

"You've got them, Minister!" Tom said happily. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," Fudge said tiredly, still gripping Harry's shoulder. Chrys wondered if he was afraid they were going to run away. There was some shuffling behind them as Stan and Ern came in with the twins' trucks.

"'Ow come you din't tell us 'oo you were, eh?" Stan wondered, looking back and forth between Harry and Chrys.

"A _private _parlor, please, Tom," Fudge said pointedly.

"Bye," Harry said, miserably as Tom and Fudge led him away.

"Bye, Neville!" Stan called back cheerfully.

Chrys nearly laughed.

At the end of the dimly let hallway, Tom opened a door to a small parlor. He snapped his fingers, and a fire burst out into the grate. Chrys blinked, remembering reading that wandless magic was quite difficult to do. Evidently, there was more to Tom than met the eye.

"Sit down, please, both of you," Fudge said, not unkindly. Harry sat in one of the chairs by the fire. Fudge looked at Chrys, but she merely stared back at him. He sighed and undid his pinstriped over-cloak, tossing it over the back of a chair, and sitting down as well. Chrys relented and sat next to Harry. "So… I am Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic."

"Really?" Chrys pretended to look impressed. She'd seen Fudge, of course, but at the time she'd been under her father's invisibility cloak, so… best not to mention that.

Then Tom reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt, and carrying a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on the table, set up in the middle of the chairs. Chrys gave him a bit of a smile. Now that her stomach had settled, she was hungry. The hot chocolate she'd paid for had been spilled during one of the Knight Bus's greater lurches.

Tom smiled toothlessly back, and bowed on his way out.

"Well…" Fudge poured them each a cup of tea. "Harry and Chrysanthemum… you two have us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I started to think…but you're safe now, that's all that matters."

Chrys frowned. "You started to think what exactly?" She asked, catching something in his tone.

Fudge focused on buttering a crumpet.

"Eat," he told her, putting it on a plate and pushing it towards her. "Go on, Chrysanthemum, you look famished." She reluctantly bit into the crumpet, which was quite good. She chewed and swallowed.

"Thank you, Minister," she said, still reluctant, but not meaning to be impolite.

Fudge beamed at her. "Now then, you will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley," he told them. "Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified." Chrys nearly laughed at the use of the word 'punctured.' It did not sound pleasant. Good. "She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done." Harry looked like he found this to be unlikely. He opened and closed his mouth. "Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" Fudge assumed. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, but, they are prepared to take you back next summer, as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

Chrys nodded, as that's what she would have done anyways.

Harry said as much. "We _always_ stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays, and I don't want us to ever go back to Privet Drive."

Harry glanced at Chrys. She automatically touched the painful spot on her face. It must have started to bruise by now, because Fudge's eyes flickered over her for a brief second.

He swallowed. "Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down. They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other… err… _very_ deep down," he thought. Chrys grimaced. Harry stayed silent and blank faced. "So…" Fudge buttered a crumpet for himself. "All that remains is to decided here you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and—"

"Hang on," Harry interrupted. "What about my punishment?" Fudge blinked.

"Punishment?" He repeated.

"I broke the law!" Harry reminded him. Chrys stepped on his foot. Harry ignored her. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardy!"

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" Fudge waved his crumpet in the air. "It was an accident!" Chrys nodded enthusiastically. "We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

Harry titled his head.

"Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house," he told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!" Chrys very much wanted to tell Harry to shut up.

Fudge cleared his throat.

"Now… Harry… circumstances change. We have to take into account… in the present climate…" What present climate? "Surely you don't _want _to be expelled?"

"Please don't expel him," Chrys said hurriedly.

"Of course I don't _want_ to be expelled," Harry answered Fudge's question.

Fudge laughed awkwardly. "Well the, what's all the fuss about? Stop worrying your sister, Harry. Have a crumpet while I go and see if Tom's got a room for each of you." He hurried out. 

Chrys vaguely realized she'd never had a room to herself before, but there were more important things to consider at the moment.

"Something odd's going on here," Harry thought along the same lines. "Why was Fudge waiting at the Leaky Cauldron for us—if not to punish me?"

"And even if the Ministry was going to punish you, I doubt the Minister of Magic himself would be in charge of executing that," Chrys thought. Harry nodded slowly. However, before they had a chance to dwell on this, Fudge and Tom came back into the room.

"Room eleven and thirteen are free—right next to each other," Fudge told them. "I think you'll be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand… I don't want you wandering off into muggle London, alright?" Being told not to gave Chrys a strong desire to go traipsing around the city. "Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me."

"Okay..." Harry said slowly.

"Are we in some kind of danger?" Chrys wondered. Fudge chuckled.

"Well… we…. Wouldn't want to lose you again, would we?" He said, not really answering the question. "No, no, best we know where you are… I mean…" Fudge cleared his throat again and picked up his coat. "Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know…"

"Have you had any luck with Black yet?" Harry asked suddenly.

"What's that?" Fudge dropped his coat and floundered to pick it up again.

"Sirius Black, the prisoner who escaped Azkaban," Chrys elaborated.

"Oh, you've heard… well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed… and they are angrier than I've ever seen them." Fudge shuddered. Chrys opened her mouth to ask about these mysteriously horrible guards. "So, I'll say goodbye." He held his hand out.

Harry shook it, looking thoughtful.

"Er—Minister? Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly." Fudge smiled.

"Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn't sign our permission forms. Do you think you could—"

Fudge shuffled uncomfortably.

"Ah… No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, but as I'm not your parent of guardian—"

"But you're the Minister of Magic," Harry pressed on. "If you gave us permission—"

"No, I'm sorry, Harry," Fudge repeated. "But rules are rules. Perhaps you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you don't…"

"Why, what are you so worried about?" Chrys wondered.

"Well, I'll be off," Fudge said again, his cheerfulness clearly forced. He shook her hand this time. "Enjoy your stay."

Tom came in just as Fudge left.

"If you'll follow me up, sir and miss." Tom gestured. "I've already taken your things up…"

Chrys looked around at the creaking wood staircase. She'd never been upstairs in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom opened door eleven first.

Harry beamed and rushed forward.

"Hedwig!"

She fluttered down and landed on Harry's shoulder.

"Very smart owl you've got there." Tom chuckled. "Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr. Potter, don't hesitate to ask." He turned to Chrys.

"I'll just stay here for a bit before going to bed," she told him. He nodded and them each a small iron key. "Thanks, Tom." He bowed again and left.

Harry plopped down onto his bed, stroking Hedwig's feathers.

His mind looked far away. "Nice sunset," he said suddenly. Chrys followed his gaze out the window, to the pink and gold skyline. She nodded.

"Nice end to a weird day," she thought.


	4. Of Alleys and Allies

Chrys had wanted to chat some more, but Harry slumped over and fell asleep within minutes. She carefully took off his glasses and his shoes. Hedwig glided over to her shoulder, and together they went to check out her room.

The fire was crackling, and the bed did look quite comfortable… still… her brain was too frantic to drift off.

She found her Egypt book in Harry's pillowcase filled with stuff.

When she did finally fall asleep, her dreams were filled with pharaohs and ancient curses.

The next morning, she woke to find Harry sitting in an armchair near her window, reading his broomstick care manual again.

"Aren't you tired of that thing?" She yawned, stretching. Harry shrugged.

"It's soothing…" He grinned. "Hey, Tom said breakfast is almost ready, so why don't we head down and have a bite to eat before exploring Diagon Alley?"

Chrys nodded agreeably, stifling another yawn.

Over the next several days, they got into a routine.

In the morning they ate breakfast downstairs. They watched the other guests, Harry pointing out interesting people for Chrys to sketch, while he pondered at their life stories.

After breakfast they explored the Alley.

The summer sunshine was warm and welcoming, as were the majority of the shop owners and customers.

Harry liked catching bits of people's conversations.

"Talking about Sirius Black again," he noted, as two mothers agreed they shouldn't let their children play outside until the whole matter was resolved. Chrys sighed, feeling sorry for the kids missing out on their summer. Harry leaned across their table at Forean Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor, glancing at her essay. "You still haven't finished?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She pouted. "I'm working on it, I'm working on it." She waved her hand.

"You know, summer's almost over, you should—"

"You're starting to sound like Hermione," she said accusingly. "As much as I love the girl, I don't need two of her." She frowned. "Besides, this witch burning stuff just isn't too interesting to me."

"Witch burning?" Forean commented as he came around to pick up their empty sundae glasses. Chrys and Harry nodded.

"It's for our History of Magic homework," Harry explained. "And Chrys…" He gave her a look. "…Keeps putting it off."

"Well, the way school books are written don't always make things too interesting," Florean agreed. Chrys gave Harry a smug look. "Still…" Florean magicked their sundae bowls away and pulled up a chair. "Do you mind?" Harry and Chrys shook their heads, so Florean sat down at their table. "My grandfather was American, and his tales were always a treat. Don't suppose you'd want to hear some of them? Could be more appealing to you."

"Yes, please." Chrys grinned.

"He's a good person," Harry thought, as they left the ice cream parlor later that day.

"You're just saying that because he gives you free sundaes every half hour." She paused. "Good thing too, cause otherwise you might spend all our money on ice cream." Harry gave her a mock offended look. She poked at his side. "You're going to get fat." Harry poked her side back, and then started tickling her. "Eep!" She squealed and swatted at him. "Quit it, Harry!" She giggled. "Stop!" He stopped suddenly. She blinked, and then sighed. He was staring at the new racing broom that had just been released, again.

"It's so…" He trailed off, seemingly unable to find the words.

"If you want it, just get it," she said tiredly.

"The sign says _price on request_," he told her. "They always say that when something is unreasonably expensive." He shook his head. "Besides, I have a perfectly good broom already."

"Okay then…" Chrys wondered if she should buy the thing for him for Christmas… but she wasn't sure she liked the idea of Harry zooming even faster through the sky. His current speed gave her enough anxiety already. "Anything left on our school list?"

Harry pulled the piece of parchment out of his pocket.

"Er, yeah. We've already got our copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_…" He stared, bemused, at the list. "…But we're still needing _Intermediate Transfiguration_; _The Standard Books of Spells, Grade Three; _and _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky."

"I'm not sure I'm looking forward to starting Divination," Chrys said. "I mean, it sounds interesting, but Hermione's said it's a load of waffle."

"Yeah… but Hermione can be a bit…" Harry titled his head. "…Critical of things."

"Hogwarts?" The Flourish and Blotts manager, Archibald Cornwall asked as they stepped inside. His hair was mused, his collar was askew, and his face was red. He blinked. "Oh, it's just you, Miss Potter."

Chrys had visited Flourish and Blotts several times since she'd got here, wandering through the shelves and reading things at random. Archie looked like he wanted to complain sometimes, as she rarely bought anything, but he'd thought better of it, as Chrysanthemum Potter's presence in his shop was a bit of a draw.

"Finally buying our school books, Archie," Chrys told him.

Archie let out a long breath. "For once, I'm wishing you weren't here to buy something, Miss Potter." He pulled on a heavy pair of gloves. "You'll have to get out of the way," he told Harry, motioning at the cage towards the front. It was filled with angrily snapping copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters._

"Hang on, we've already got those," Harry said quickly.

"Have you?" Archie's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this morning—" He was cut off by a loud ripping noise as two of the books started going at each other. "Stop it! Stop it!" Archie poked at them with a walking stick through the bars. He shook his head. "I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the _Invisible Book of Invisibility_—cost a fortune, and we never found them… well… what else is on your list?" Harry told him. "Ah, starting Divination, are you?" Archie got them each a copy of the relevant book. Harry glanced around at the other books in the section, things like: _Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks _and _Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul_. Chrys snorted. She turned to say something to Harry, but he was staring hard at another book: _Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming_. "Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," Archie told him. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

"Well then…" Chrys covered _Death Omens_ with _Broken Balls._ "None of that, Harry. You're paranoid enough already." Harry shot her a meaningful look. She grimaced, nodding to tell him that she agreed. The large black dog on the book cover looked a great deal like the one they'd seen just before the Knight Bus arrived.

"It can't have been a death omen," Harry thought as they settled down in his room. "We were just panicking when we saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent… it was probably just a stray dog…"

"It was the size of a small bear," Chrys reminded him.

Harry ran his hand through his hair.

"You're only making it worse, dear," said a scratchy voice. Chrys frowned at the talking mirror on the wall.

"Oh, shut up, you."

Chrys had little time to dwell on death omens the next couple of days, as she happily greeted her friends from Hogwarts.

"Chrys!" Dean Thomas grinned at her over a rack of paintbrushes. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I love this place," Chrys said honestly, looking around at the array of colorful, paints, inks and parchment in a shop called _Mirabelle's Miraculous Art Supplies_.

Dean's smile faded slightly. "You walk into something?" He motioned at her face.

She blinked. The bruise had faded to yellow now, but was still unfortunately quite noticeable if she was standing face-to-face with someone.

"Something like that." She waved her hand. "Anyway, what are you shopping for?"

Dean gave her one last concerned look before picking up a jar of paint from a nearby rack. "Trying to choose some special paint for Anna—my sister, she's a painter and her birthday's coming up."

"Well, what kind of things does she like to paint?" Chrys wondered.

"Lately she's in her dark phase," Dean told her, rolling his eyes. "She's been doing all like, stormy seas and clouds and stuff."

"Hmm… what about this one?" Chrys picked up a jar of black paint that swirled ominously.

"Perfect!" Dean grinned brightly again. He had a quite nice smile, Chrys decided.

"Dean! Dean!" Seamus Finnigan called out, rushing into the shop. "Are you almost done? You've got to come look at the new broomstick model!" Seamus blinked. "Oh, hey, Chrys." He stared. "What have you done to your face?" Chrys sighed and redirected his focus.

"You're talking about the Firebolt?"

"Yes!" Seamus beamed. "Isn't it amazing?" He looked back at Dean. "You've got to see it, Dean!"

"Alright," Dean said, looking amused. "Let me just buy this." He motioned with his jar of paint.

"Well, I'll see you two at school," Chrys said, moving to the door.

"See you." Dean waved from the register as Seamus bounced impatiently.

Later, Harry spotted Neville Longbottom and hid behind a butterfly bush.

"Hello, Neville," Chrys said pleasantly.

Neville let out a giant sigh. "Oh… hello, Chrys." His brow was very furrowed. She took a guess as to the cause of his mood.

"What have you lost this time?"

"My booklist," Neville said miserably.

"You can have mine," Chrys offered, digging around her pockets and finally coming up with it. "I've got my stuff already."

Neville gave her a deeply thankful look.

"My gran was about to throttle me, I think."

"Well, er… good luck, Neville." She waited for a moment as he walked away, and then turned back to the butterfly bush. "What'd you hide from Neville for?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Still a bit guilty for using his name on the knight bus," he admitted. "Besides… his gran sounds intimidating."

It was nice to see their classmates, however, Chrys knew Harry was left unsatisfied. So she was quite glad when Ron and Hermione suddenly turned up at Florean's one afternoon.

"Harry! Chrys!" Ron rushed over, grinning and waving. "Finally!" Ron plopped down at their table. Chrys noted his freckles seemed to have multiplied tenfold.

"Chrys!" Hermione gave her a quick squeeze. "You're looking well."

"You too." Both girls had soaked in the sun and were even more brown than usual.

"We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's and—"

"We got our school things last week," Harry interrupted Ron. "And how come you knew we were staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," Ron said simply. Mr. Weasley must have heard something because he worked at the Ministry of Magic.

"Did you _really _blow up your aunt, Harry?" Hermione asked, disapproving.

"I didn't mean to," Harry said honestly. "I just lost control…" Ron roared in laughter, and after a moment, Chrys joined in. Hermione shot them each a look.

"It's not funny, you two," she snapped. Chrys and Ron pretended to look admonished, but shared a grin as soon as Hermione turned around. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"Yeah…" Chrys and Harry said in unison.

"There was something weird about that," Chrys agreed. "Although Harry has a tendency to blow—" She snorted. "—Things out of proportion. He thought he'd get arrested."

"I may well have," Harry huffed. He looked at Ron. "Don't supposed your dad knows why Fudge let me off easy, does he?" Ron shrugged.

"Probably cause it's you, isn't it?" He thought. He chuckled. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to _me_ if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too!"

"You as well?" Chrys asked Hermione hopefully.

"Mum and dad dropped me off this morning with all of my Hogwarts things," Hermione confirmed, smiling.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "So tomorrow we can all go to King's Cross together!"

"Excellent!" Harry said. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this." Ron pulled a long thing box out of his bag and opened it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow containing one unicorn tail-hair." Chrys nodded, relieved that was taken care of. "And we've got all our books—" He gestured at this bag. "What about those _Monster Books_, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"Assistant," Chrys repeated. "Guess Archie's finally had enough."

"Who's Arch—" Ron started to ask.

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry wondered, motioning at the three large bags she'd stuffed under the table.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" Hermione said, matter a fact. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"I'd forgotten you signed up for all of the classes available," Chrys mused. Chrys had signed up for three out of five. She chose Care of Magical Creatures and Divination because Harry and Ron had signed up for them. "Is that even allowed?"

"Well, Hermione wouldn't have done it if it wasn't," Harry figured.

"I don't know." Chrys raised her eyebrows. "Breaking rules in the pursuit of knowledge? Sounds like a very Hermione thing to do."

"True." Harry turned to Hermione. "You sure you aren't meant to be in Ravenclaw?" He shot her a teasing grin. She crossed her arms.

"Anyway, what are you doing Muggle Studies for?" Ron wondered. "You're muggle-born! Your mum and dad are muggles! You already know all about muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," Hermione said earnestly.

"…Or so you tried to convince me," Chrys recalled. "I still think Ancient Runes sounds a bit more interesting." She tilted her head. "Although, it's supposed to be quite difficult." She frowned. Hermione patted her on the shoulder.

"We'll study hard," she assured her. Chrys grimaced. Ron grinned at her. Chrys swatted at him. Ron dodged and grinned wider.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" Harry wondered, still looking a bit dubiously at her bags. Ron sniggered. Hermione rolled her eyes and looked through her purse.

"I've still got ten galleons. It's my birthday in September, and mum and dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice _book_?" Ron said innocently.

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said, ignoring his tone. "I really want an owl. I mean, Chrys and Harry have got Hedwig, and you've got Errol—"

"I haven't. Errol's a family owl," he corrected her. "All I've got is Scabbers." He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. Chrys glanced over.

"He's not looking so good."

"Right?" Ron grimaced. "I'm going to get him checked over." He gently lowered Scabbers onto the table. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," Harry recalled. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl."

Chrys stood up. "Onward!" She pointed in the direction of the shop.

The animal shop was filled with all manners of squawking, squeaking, and scratching. Chrys wrinkled her nose at the smell, but marched determinedly forward.

The witch at the register was with another customer, so they waited.

"I had to stop Harry from getting that jewel-encrusted tortoise," Chrys told them conversationally. Harry frowned.

"I just thought it was funny, a turtle so dressed up."

"Where would we keep a giant tortoise?" Chrys wanted to know.

"The wizard discussing double-ended newts just left," Hermione pointed out.

They moved up to the counter.

"It's my rat," Ron told the witch at the counter without preamble. "He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt."

"Bang him on the counter," the witch said, pulling on a pair of dark lensed glasses.

Ron carefully put Scabbers on the counter. A nearby cage full of rats stopped playing jump rope with their tails and moved closer to the bars to get a look. "Hmmm…" The witch picked up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?"

"Dunno… quite old," Ron told her. "He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" The witch asked, examining Scabbers closely.

"Er…"

"He bites annoying people sometimes," Chrys put in, remembering when Scabbers had chomped on a bully's finger their first year. Ron gave her a weak smile. The witch ignored her, looking from Scabbers's tattered ear, to the missing toe on his front paw.

She tutted. "He's been through the mill, this one."

"He was like that when Percy gave him to me," Ron said defensively. Chrys couldn't imagine Percy treating Scabbers roughly… she wondered how the poor rat had gotten so beat up.

"An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so," the witch said emotionlessly. "Now, if you're looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these…" She gestured at the cage of rats, who had gone back to their skipping game.

"Show-offs," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," the witch offered, pulling a red bottle out from under the counter.

"Okay," Ron agreed. "How much—ouch!" A giant orange cat had leapt out of the top of its cage and landed on Ron's head, hissing madly at Scabbers.

"No, Crookshanks, no!" The witch shouted, reaching for the cat. Scabbers leapt off the counter and scampered out the down with uncharacteristic speed. The cat nimbly avoided the witch's arms and went racing after Scabbers.

"Scabbers!" Ron cried worriedly, and ran after both the animals.

Somewhere in the crowd, Hermione and Chrys got separated from Harry and Ron.

"Oh, look…" Hermione had spotted the ginger cat, sitting neatly in front of Flourish and Blotts, licking its paw. She approached it slowly.

"Hermione…" Chrys followed warily.

The ginger cat looked up. However, instead of attacking as Chrys expected, Crookshanks strode up to Hermione and wove between her legs, purring.

Chrys blinked.

"I… I think he likes me," Hermione said, just as surprised, but clearly pleased.

"Guess so…" Chrys eyed the cat, which let Hermione pick it up. Crookshanks was so large he barely fit in Hermione's arms, but neither of them looked like they minded. "Let's take him back to the shopkeeper."

"Oh…" Hermione wilted somewhat. "Alright, then."

The shopkeeper froze as they entered, staring at Hermione and Crookshanks.

"I don't believe it," she said. "That cat's never taken to anyone, and he's been here for ages…" She considered Hermione thoughtfully. "How'd you like to take him home? I'd give you a real discounted price."

Hermione beamed. "I would love to." She spotted the red bottle on the counter. "Oh, and I'd better get Ron's rat tonic as well."

Ron and Harry were there when they stepped outside the shop. As soon as Ron spotted the cat, he quickly shoved Scabbers into his pocket.

"You bought that monster!"

"He's _gorgeous_, isn't he?" Hermione said, like a proud parent. Harry and Chrys looked at each other, and then back at the cat. The fluffy ginger fur was nice, but the grumpy squashed face was not.

"Well, er… he seems to like you," Harry said diplomatically as the cat purred. Hermione beamed at him.

"Well, I don't like him," Ron said, crossing his arms. Hermione frowned. "Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!"

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" Hermione cooed.

"What about Scabbers?" Ron complained. "He needs rest and relaxation. How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me…" Hermione handed over the rat tonic. "And stop _worrying_. Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory…" Chrys grimaced. "…And Scabbers in yours," Hermione continued as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. "Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages. No one wanted him."

"I wonder why," Ron said sarcastically. Hermione gave him a hard look and stomped upstairs. Ron shook his head. "Honestly…" Then he brightened a bit. "There you go, Harry. There's dad."

They moved over to Mr. Weasley, who was sitting at the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet. _"Harry! Chrys!" He smiled and waved. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry said, hopping up next to him. Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry glanced at the front page. Sirius Black stared up at him. "They still haven't caught him, then?"

"No." Mr. Weasley's face grew serious. "They've pulled us all of our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" Ron wondered. "It'd be good to get some more money—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron." Mr. Weasley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. Beneath his glasses, his eyes were rimmed in red. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen year old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

"Oh." Chrys stood up straighter. "Mr. Weasley, I've been meaning to ask someone—"

"Ah, the other famous set of twins," Fred Weasley joked as he joined them, carrying several bags. Chrys smiled slightly, and made room for him to put his stuff down. He gave her a nod. George (Fred's twin) huffed as he let go of his bags.

"Nice of you to help carry everything, Ronnie," he said sarcastically. Ron opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again when he saw his mother and sister approaching.

"Ginny!" Chrys said happily, giving the youngest Weasley a tight hug.

"How are you, Ginny?" Harry asked politely. Ginny flushed.

"I—I'm fine, t-thank you."

Chrys shook her head. Ginny had always been a bit flustered around Harry, but it seemed worse since last year, when Chrys and Harry had rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets.

"Harry, how nice to see you," Percy said, stretching out his hand. Harry's lips twitched as he shook Percy's hand.

"It's not as if you've never met us before, Percy," Chrys said, rolling her eyes. Percy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm merely being polite, Chrysanthemum. Something you might like to try yourself."

"Indeed," George said, nodding solemnly. He held his hand out to Chrys. "Simply _splendid _to see you here, old girl—" He shook her hand enthusiastically.

"Marvelous," Fred agreed, putting on heirs and shaking her other hand at the same time. "Absolutely spiffing." Chrys giggled, nearly thrown into the ceiling by the force of their handshakes.

Harry looked like he was trying not to laugh. Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," Mrs. Weasley decided.

"Mum!" Fred said, as if he'd only just spotted her. "How really corking to see you—"

"I said, that's enough," Mrs. Weasley said strongly (as if she ever did anything otherwise). Percy pulled out a chair for her. She sat and smiled at Harry and Chrys in turn. "Hello, my dears." She pointed at the badge on Percy's chest. "I suppose you've heard our exciting news? Second Head Boy in the family!"

"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I don't doubt that." Mrs. Weasley frowned. "I notice they haven't made you two prefect."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" George wondered, looking as if he found the whole idea distasteful. "It'd take all the fun out of life." Ginny giggled. George smiled at her.

"You should set a better example for your sister!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"Oh, Ginny's going to do what she wants, regardless of examples," Chrys figured. Mrs. Weasley didn't look entirely sure what to say to that, but Ginny shot Chrys a grateful look.

"And anyway, Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, mother," Percy said haughtily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…" Fred and George watched him go.

They sighed. "We tried to shut him in a pyramid," George told her quietly. "But mum stopped us."

"That could've been quite dangerous." Chrys frowned, thinking of all the traps and curses she'd read about. She tilted her head. "…What sort of pyramid exactly?" She asked, her curiosity overriding her disproval.

George laughed.

That night, Tom set all the Weasleys, Hermione, and the twins up in the largest parlor for supper.

Chrys rubbed her stomach as they got to the end of the five-course meal.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, dad?" Fred wondered, spooning more chocolate pudding onto his plate.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars."

Everyone stared at him. "Why?" Percy asked, curious.

"It's because of you, Perce," George said seriously. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—"

"For Humongous Bighead," Fred finished. Everyone except for Mrs. Weasley and Percy snorted into their pudding. Mr. Weasley guilty hid his face behind his napkin.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy tried again, trying to sound dignified.

"You mean, why 'is' the Ministry providing cars," Chrys corrected him. "Singular clause, Percy." She raised her eyebrows pointedly. Percy's ears turned pink. Fred and George sniggered. Hermione's lips twitched.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore—" Mr. Weasley said hurriedly, his ears also going red. Chrys and Harry looked at each other, remembering last year when they'd crashed his illegally magicked car into the Whomping Willow. The car, now somewhat sentient, for some reason, had decided to stay in the Forbidden Forest, even saving them on one of their misadventures. "—And as I work there… they're doing me a favor."

"Good thing, too," Mrs. Weasley said approvingly. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the muggle Underground… you're all packed, aren't you?" She looked around at the lot of them.

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," Percy complained. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs. Weasley called over to him. Ron gave Percy a hard look. Percy shrugged one shoulder.

Later, Chrys was so full she was about to doze off early, when she heard shouting across the hall. She stuck her head out the door, seeing Harry had done the same.

They glanced at each other, and then at the room across from them, and moved forward.

The door to Number 12 was ajar.

"It was _here_, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing—" Percy yelled.

"I haven't touched it, alright?" Ron shouted back.

Without further ado, Chrys opened the door wider.

"Everything alright in here?"

"No," Ron said sulkily. Percy frowned at him.

"What's up?" Harry asked them.

"My Head Boy badge is gone." Percy crossed his arms and glared at Ron.

"So's Scabbers rat tonic," Ron added, rustling around in his trunk. "I think I might've left it in the bar—"

"You're not going anywhere till you've coughed up my badge!" Percy interrupted.

"Percy," Chrys said wearily. "What on earth would Ron want with your badge?"

"Exactly," Ron agreed.

"I'll get Scabbers' stuff," Harry offered to Ron. "I'm already packed, so…" Ron nodded gratefully, and Harry scampered off. Chrys looked at Percy.

"…You know, I think I may have an idea as to where your badge has got to," she said slowly. He looked up hopefully. She didn't much care for his attitude, but she knew how upset she'd be if one of her favorite books or inkbottles had gone missing. "What number's Fred and George's room?" She whispered to Ron.

Ron snickered. "Seventeen," he whispered back.

"Okay, I'll be back in a moment," she said more loudly.

She walked down the hall and knocked on their door.

"Yeah? What is it?"

Chrys felt her face go warm as Fred answered the door without a shirt on. They blinked at each other for a moment. Then Fred grinned. Chrys was sure she was quite red now.

"Fred?" George called out, wandering over. "Who's at the door? If it's Percy, then tell him…" Thankfully, _he_ was wearing a shirt. He trailed off, spotting Chrys. He looked from her face to Fred's bare chest, and laughed. "Oh, poor Chrys, do put a shirt on Freddie, before you scar her for life."

"Sure you want me to?" Fred asked Chrys, rummaging around in a pile of clothes. She gave him a hard look.

"I'm warning you—I've been reading up on the stinging jinx, and I haven't had anyone to practice on yet."

Fred raised an eyebrow and pulled a shirt over his head.

"So, what did you come here for, Chrys?" Fred wondered, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Other than to ogle me…"

"I was not!" Chrys protested. She hid her face in her hands, wondering if this was how Ginny felt with Harry. Although, that was quite a different situation. She uncovered her face and frowned. "I've come to rescue Percy's precious badge," she explained.

"What badge?" George said, failing to look innocent. Fred chuckled.

"Here." He tossed it at her.

"Oh." The badge now read Bighead Boy. Her lips twitched and she tilted her head. "Well… I was going to tell him it must have fallen off in the hallway, but he'll never believe me now."

George pouted. "You aren't going to spoil the fun, are you Chrys?"

She moved her head from side to side.

"Guess not… I'll slip back into his room and hide it in his stuff somewhere."

"Brilliant!" George said, clapping her on the bed. "Now, get to bed before mum comes in to lecture Fred and I for being a bad example."

Chrys didn't need to be told twice. She could hear Fred laughing again on the way out. He had an annoyingly appealing laugh.

Before going to bed, Chrys stopped in on Harry.

She was glad she did, as soon as she saw his furrowed brow.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked softly. Harry looked up. She could tell he was contemplating whether or not he should tell her something. "Remember, we're supposed to tell each other everything."

"Hmmm… speaking of which, why's your face all red? You feeling okay?" He asked, concerned. Chrys groaned.

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. "…It's just, Fred played an embarrassing prank on me." Harry smiled slightly.

"Oh?"

She waved her hand. "Your turn."

His smile disappeared. "I overheard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking… they were arguing about whether or not to tell us…" He trailed off. Chrys gave him an encouraging look. "… Whether or not to tell us that Sirius Black escaped prison in order to kill us," Harry said in a rush.

Chrys blinked. "That's ridiculous," she said, her heart hammering.

Harry shook his head.

"No more ridiculous than other stuff we've been through… and besides, I trust Mr. Weasley… I don't think he'd lie about something like that," he said. Chrys sat down next to him on the bed. "Mrs. Weasley didn't want to frighten us, but Mr. Weasley wanted us to know, so we'd be on our guard. He knows we get into trouble, and wants us to be prepared in case…"

"How exactly would two thirteen year olds prepare for facing a mass murderer?" Chrys said shrilly. Than she paused. Harry was giving her a pointed look. "Voldemort doesn't count. Yes, he's a mass murderer, and vile, and terrifying, but when never exactly prepared to face him, it just… sort of happened. Half of our surviving was luck."

"Well, we'll just have to hope our luck holds up then," Harry said grimly. Chrys shook her head. Harry ruffled her hair a bit.

"…Do they know why?" Chrys asked after a moment. Harry looked questioningly at her. "Why does Sirius Black want to kill us?"

"Why did Voldemort want to kill us when we were babies?" Harry countered. He sighed, running his hands through his own hair this time. "It's hard to know for sure, Chrys… but Mr. Weasley was thinking… maybe Sirius Black has gone so mad, that he thinks killing us will bring back his old pal, Voldemort."


	5. Of Chills and Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for blood? Just a little, in the context of menstruation. Again.

Chrys had fallen asleep in the armchair in Harry's room.

When she woke, Harry was already dressed and trying to coax Hedwig into her cage.

"Morning," he said lightly as she yawned. "You'd better hurry up and get ready. Mrs. Weasley's on a rampage."

"Okay." She stood up, nodding. "I'll just…" She trailed off at the shocked look Harry was giving her. She looked down. "Oh, not again!" She cried. The blood had soaked through her pajama trousers and all over the chair. "I was supposed to have another day or so! Stupid cycle predicting spell didn't work, I'm gonna…" She suddenly felt very much like crying. "What am I going to do?"

"I'll…" Harry shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Then his eyes lit up. "I'll go get Mrs. Weasley!" He said, proud to have come to this conclusion. Chrys opened her mouth, but he had raced out of the room before she could say anything. Chrys stared at the bloody chair. Maybe it would be better for Sirius Black to come murder her now and save her the pain and embarrassment of 'becoming a woman.'

She shook her head. That was the hormones talking.

Chrys had fought the man who killed her parents, and survived. She could survive this… probably.

"Oh, dear…" Mrs. Weasley said from the doorway. She shooed a worried looking Harry back into the hall. Mrs. Weasley gave Chrys such a sympathetic look that Chrys got teary-eyed and sniffled. "Come on, love." Mrs. Weasley put a hand on her back and nudged her towards Harry's bathroom. Mrs. Weasley handed her fresh set of clothes and a pad. "You wash yourself up, and I'll clean over here." Chrys' lip trembled. "Now, now, nothing to be ashamed of, just keep moving, Chrys."

When Chrys came back, the chair was pristine and Mrs. Weasley had brought a cup of Padma's special tea, _and_ some left over chocolate pudding from last night.

"I thought we could have a smidge to eat up here before heading down for breakfast," Mrs. Weasley explained. "Much quieter that way." She took a sip of her own black tea. Chrys sat down across from her.

"You're amazing," she said, really meaning it.

"Oh don't mention it." Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Poor Ginny got hers the first time last year at school and…" She faded off. Ginny had faced much worse things last year at school. Mrs. Weasley paled slightly. Chrys shoved an overly large spoonful of pudding into her mouth to avoid saying anything. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. "Well, anyway, as your aunt isn't here to help you, I'm happy to do so."

Chrys snorted. "Aunt Petunia lectured me for two hours straight last time… and Uncle Vernon looked at me like I was a leaper… well, more so than usual, anyway." She paused, stiffening as she realized she might have said too much.

Mrs. Weasley was frowning.

"You are not a leaper," she said firmly. "You are a young woman, and other people, especially other _women_ are supposed to help you at this time." Her brow was furrowed and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

"Well… good thing I've got you then," Chrys thought. Mrs. Weasley relaxed slightly.

"Of course, dear."

Downstairs _was_ noisy.

"Are you two still fighting?" Chrys wondered, looking from Ron to Percy. The two boys were pointedly looking away from each other and scowling.

"This morning, Percy accused Ron to spilling tea on a picture of Percy's girlfriend," Harry explained, without taking sides.

"She's just hiding her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…" Ron grumbled.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked Chrys, concerned.

"You ill?" Ron wondered. Chrys gave Harry a sharp look. Harry shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

"Just feeling a little…off," Chrys said vaguely. Ron squinted at her.

"You do look a little pale," he decided. "Here." He pushed a plate of bacon at her. Mrs. Weasley spotted the action from over where she'd gone to sit with Hermione and Ginny, and nodded approvingly at her son.

"Anyway," Harry said, swallowing his porridge. "Ron, last night I—"

He was cut off by the appearance of Fred and George.

"Time to get the trunks moving!" They said in unison.

"Which of you lot is helping?" Fred asked, looking around expectantly.

"Ronniekins, of course," George said, heaving him out of his seat.

"Oi! I haven't finished eating yet!" Ron complained.

"When are you ever?" Fred said lightly.

The Ministry cars were a brilliant green, and their drivers wore suits to match.

"Something straight out of Emerald City," Chrys said to Hermione.

"What's that?" Hermione said—distracted by Crookshanks, hissing through the whicker basket she'd somehow fit him into.

"Er, nothing," Chrys said.

Chrys, Ginny, Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley settled into one car, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, Percy, and Mr. Weasley filled up the other.

The seats were quite roomy (having been expanded by magic, like Mr. Weasley's old car), but still, Chrys felt stuffy sitting between Fred and Mrs. Weasley.

Fred kept whispering jokes to Chrys, who was trying very hard not to laugh, as Mrs. Weasley watched on suspiciously. Ginny and George were chatting amicably about the wizarding band, the Weird Sisters' new hit single.

"Right then," Mr. Weasley said, after the drivers had saluted him and driven off. "Let's do this in pairs, as there are so may of us." Mrs. Weasley and Percy nodded. "I'll go through first with Harry." Mr. Weasley took Harry by the elbow and the two of them began maneuvering through the crowd at King's Cross.

After a moment, Mrs. Weasley looked around and nodded.

"Right, Percy and Ginny next," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Of course, mother."

"And Ronald, help get their trunks up onto the trolley, please. We haven't much time."

"Of course, mother," Ron mimicked Percy.

Percy frowned. Ginny giggled. Mrs. Weasley waited until they were out of sight.

"Ron and Fred," she continued. "…George and Hermione."

"Just a little longer, Crookshanks," Hermione assured the cat. George eyed the hissing basket warily.

"And at last, you and me," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at Chrys.

The two of them glanced around, and then casually walked through the barrier, the magical entrance to Platform 9 ¾.

Fred, George and Ron were moving everybody's trunks up onto the train. Meanwhile, Ginny (apparently a cat whisperer) was holding the basket, and cooing at it while it purred. Hermione was watching her in amazement.

"We're three short," Mrs. Weasley noted, looking around.

"Percy's over there with his _girlfriend_." Ron gestured and rolled his eyes. Mrs. Weasley paused.

"Oh, well… " She looked disappointed. "I haven't had a chance to say goodbye yet."

"Don't worry, mum," George said, hopping down from the train.

"We'll go get him," Fred said, looking delighted.

Mrs. Weasley looked to Ron. "What about Harry and your father?"

"They were just…" Ron looked around. He frowned. "I don't know where they've gotten to actually."

Fred and George dragged a disgruntled Percy back.

Mrs. Weasley gave them each (including Chrys and Hermione) a goodbye kiss as the train whistled.

"Now where _are_ Arthur and Harry?" She worried.

"Found them," Chrys said quickly. Neither Harry, nor Mr. Weasley were tall enough to spot over the heads of the crowd, but she had crouched down and spotted them through the shuffling legs.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley called out to him, shooing the girls onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"He's coming, Molly!" Mr. Weasley shouted back, before turning to Harry and saying something quietly.

Harry had to run along the train and jump to get on.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.

"I need to speak to you in private," he said in an undertone.

"Go away, Ginny," Ron said.

"Oh, that's nice," Ginny huffed.

"Ron!" Chrys frowned. Harry gave her a meaningful look. Chrys sighed. "I'll see you at the feast, yeah, Gin?" Ginny nodded and stomped off.

They looked around for an empty compartment, but nearly all of them were full.

"This one's good," Ron thought, opening the last compartment in the back.

"Someone's sitting in the corner," Hermione said quietly. "I think he's asleep."

"Weird," Harry thought. "You never see adults on the train, unless it's the witch who pushes the food trolley."

Chrys tiptoed in to get a closer look.

His robes were worn and covered in patches. He'd pulled them up over his face, so that only his furrowed brow and brown hair freckled with grey was visible.

Chrys thought the man must have been through a lot to have such a furrowed brow, even in his sleep.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron wondered, carefully taking a seat.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione said immediately. The other three stared at her.

"How d'you know that?" Ron asked.

"Oh…" Chrys looked up. "It's on his case." She pointed at the luggage rack. The case was wrapped in rope, and probably would fall apart if it wasn't. _Professor R. J. Lupin _was stamped onto the corner. The letters were peeling off.

"Wonder what he teaches?" Ron continued.

"That's obvious," Hermione thought. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The four of them stared at this Professor Lupin.

"…Well," Chrys said after a moment. "At least he isn't another pretty boy." Hermione flushed slightly. Hermione had fallen prey to the charms of their previous Defense teacher, whom Chrys was referring to.

Ron snorted. "Well, I hope he's up to it. He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…" He turned to Harry. "What were you going to tell us?"

Harry told them about the argument he overheard last night, and additionally, how Mr. Weasley had just warned him not to go after Black.

By the time he finished, Ron was wide eyed and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. "Sirius Black escaped to come after _you_? Oh, Harry, Chrys…" Hermione took a deep breath. "You'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry—"

"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry said, frowning at her. "Trouble usually finds _me_." Chrys nodded seriously.

"He's right. Like a trouble magnet, ever since we were kids."

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" Ron wondered, shaking a bit.

Chrys thumped him on the back. He jumped slightly.

"Don't worry, Ron."

"How can we not?" Hermione squeaked. Harry looked at Chrys.

"They're taking this a lot worse than I thought."

Ron chuckled awkwardly. "Come on, mate. No one knows how he got out of Azkaban. No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" Hermione said hopefully. "I mean, they've got all the muggles looking out for him too…"

Chrys shook her head. "Hermione, if he's killed thirteen people with one spell, I don't think a neighborhood watch is going to stand much of a chance." She grimaced. Hermione wilted. "Oh." Chrys looked up suddenly. "I keep trying to figure out, what's with those Azkaban guards? Everyone seems terrified of them." She looked at Ron and Hermione. "Do you know anything about that?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. Ron scratched his nose. Harry leaned forward expectantly.

"Well… Percy was furious at something Fred did one time—wasn't too bad really, just something with his glasses, but… Percy said Fred was going to end up in Azkaban someday." Ron winced. "Dad was furious. I mean, mum's scary enough when she gets angry, but dad…" He cleared his throat. "Anyway, Percy was wondering why he was so angry, and dad said, if Percy ever had the misfortune to meet the Azkaban guards, then he'd know why dad was so angry."

Hermione looked at Chrys. "Have you tried doing research?"

"I asked Archie—the Flourish and Blotts manager—if he had anything … but he changed the subject."

Ron peeked in his pocket at Scabbers.

"Wonder if it's time for more tonic."

"Didn't you read the instructions?" Hermione said. Ron gave her a look.

"As if you've got Scabbers' best interests at heart."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Chrys held up her hand.

"Do you hear that?" It was an odd whizzing sound.

Ron blinked. "It's coming from Harry's trunk." He stood up and rifled through Harry's stuff without asking.

"Oh," Chrys said, looking at the Pocket Sneakoscope Ron had given Harry for their birthday. It was whistling and glowing in Ron's hand as it spun fast.

"Is that a _sneakoscope_?" Hermione stood up for a better look.

"Yeah, mind you… it's a very cheap one," Ron admitted. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

Chrys sighed. "Poor Errol."

Ron nodded a bit. Hermione squinted at him.

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?"

"No! Well… I wasn't supposed to be using Errol," he relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, he's not really up to long journeys… but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry said, of the still whistling sneakoscope. He frowned at the sleeping professor. "Or it'll wake him up." Ron shoved it in an old pair of Uncle Vernon's socks, and then back in the trunk.

"We should get it checked in Hogsmeade," Ron suggested, settling back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Bangs, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"I see…" Chrys glanced sideways at Harry, watching him darken and tried to think of how to change the subject.

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked Ron excitedly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-muggle settlement in Britain—"

"Yeah, I think it is," Ron told her, sounding as if he didn't particularly care one way or another. He grinned. "But that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" Hermione asked as Harry stared sadly out the window. Chrys glanced nervously from him, to Ron, to Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop…" Ron sighed dreamily. "…Where they've got _everything_… Pepper Imps—they make you smoke at the mouth—and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent Sugar Quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next—"

Chrys hadn't tried any of those.

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione interrupted. "In _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion..."

"Not goblin rebellions," Chrys muttered. Goblins seemed to rebel every other Tuesday, and she was tired of writing essays about them not making their minds up about political leaders.

Hermione gave her a look and plowed on.

"—And the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain."

Chrys tilted her head. Now, that did sound interesting.

"—And massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," Ron continued, ignoring both of them.

Hermione smiled at Harry, maybe realizing how quiet he was being.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

Chrys winced. "'Spect it will be," Harry grumbled. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked.

"We can't go." Harry motioned at Chrys and himself.

"The Dursleys—predictably, wouldn't sign our permission slips," Chrys explained. She smiled slightly. "Harry even tried to get Fudge to sign 'em, but—"

"_You're not allowed to come_?" Ron asked, wide-eyed. "But—no way—McGonagall or someone will give you permission—"

Harry laughed bitterly. "Oh sure, cause she's not fond of the rules, or anything like that."

"—or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle—"

"Really?" Chrys perked up, looking at Ron eagerly.

"Ron! Chrys!" Hermione admonished. "I don't think Harry and Chrys should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose—" Chrys frowned.

"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission," Harry figured.

"But if _we're_ with them, Black wouldn't dare—" Ron tried again.

"Ron," Chrys interjected. "That's sweet and all, but I'll say it again, Black's already killed thirteen people just for the hell of it." Hermione huffed.

"Precisely. It's a load of rubbish to assume that Black would worry about attacking them just because _we're _there." Hermione nervously fiddled with the clasps on Crookshanks' basket, which she'd been holding on her lap.

"Don't let that thing out!" Ron protested. She already had. Crookshanks leapt straight onto Ron's knees. Scabbers, a lump in Ron's pocket, shivered violently. "Get out of here!" Ron shoved Crookshanks.

"Ron, don't!" Hermione growled.

Quite suddenly, Professor Lupin turned over, his cloak shifting. Chrys frowned. The professor had several thin, silvery scars on his face.

Hermione and Ron froze, waiting to see if he'd woken up, but miraculously, he hadn't.

At one o'clock, the food trolley witch came around.

Harry bought a whole stack of Cauldron Cakes.

"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron nodded at Professor Lupin as the food trolley witch counted out Harry's change. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Chrys smiled, thinking Ron was more like his mum than he knew.

"Er—Professor?" Hermione spoke up hesitantly. "Excuse me—Professor?"

Nothing happened. "Don't worry, dear," the food trolley witch told her. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

"I suppose he _is_ asleep," Ron whispered as the door closed. "I mean—he hasn't died, has he?" Chrys and Hermione leaned forward. Professor Lupin's chest was moving gently up and down.

"No, no, he's breathing," Hermione said. She took a bite of a Cauldron Cake.

"It's raining," Chrys said later. It was hard to see anything outside the window, except the drops pelting down. She pouted. Her usual challenge of drawing cows in fields, blurred by the speed, was interrupted.

"Well, that is what they call it when water falls from the sky," Draco Malfoy said as he entered their compartment. He spoke slowly, as if she were stupid. Crabbe and Goyle, his lackeys, grunted in laughter. Their bulk took up the entire doorway.

"Oh, good, you know basic vocabulary," Chrys said, unbothered. Malfoy's sneer faltered slightly.

"Weasel…" He turned to Ron. "I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer. Did your mother die of shock?" Ron stood up quickly, knocking over Crookshanks' basket. Professor Lupin snorted. Malfoy eyed him warily. "Who's that?"

"New teacher," Harry told him, standing up and putting a hand on Ron's shoulder. He raised an eyebrow. "What were you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"C'mon," he grumbled to Crabbe and Goyle.

Chrys grinned as they left.

"I guess Professor Lupin has his uses," Harry said, smiling a bit as well.

Ron's brow was furrowed. He cracked his knuckles.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year. I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get a hold of his head and—"

Hermione frowned as he made a violent gesture in the air.

"Ron," she hissed in warning, watching Professor Lupin. "Be careful…" The professor continued to sleep.

As the Hogwarts Express sped on, the rain grew thicker. Chrys shivered, staring out into the darkness. Harry got up without a word and pulled a jumper out of her trunk, tossing it to her.

She pulled it over her head, letting out a breath of relief as warmly lit lanterns flickered to life in the corridors and luggage racks.

Chrys jumped as the windows rattled in the raging storm.

"How can he sleep through this racket?" She wondered, glancing at the professor.

"Don't worry, Chrys, we must be nearly there," Ron assured her. Just as he said this the train started to slow down. "Great." Ron stood up and tried to see through the rain. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"

Hermione frowned, checking her watch.

"We can't be there yet."

"Then why are we stopping?" Ron wondered. Harry stood up as well, peeking into the corridor. He jerked slightly to the left as the train came to a stop. Hermione squeaked as Harry's trunk nearly landed on top of her.

And then the lights went out.

Chrys normally wasn't bothered by the dark, but the whole circumstance was just plain… spooky.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, somewhere to her right.

"Ouch!" Hermione hissed. "Ron, that was my foot!"

"D'you think we've broken down?" Harry asked. Chrys was relieved to hear his voice moving closer.

"Dunno…" Ron said.

"Oh, bugger this!" Chrys said, taking out her wand. "_Lumos_!" Light flickered at the tip of her wand before fizzling out. "What the—" She frowned. "_Lumos_!"

Nothing happened.

"Chrys," Hermione admonished. "You're not supposed to do magic on the—"

Something squeaked.

"What's that noise?" Chrys wanted to know.

"Only trying to clear the window," Ron told her. "…There's something moving out there. I think people are coming aboard."

Chrys heard the door slide open and someone crash to the floor.

"Ouch," Harry grunted.

"Sorry!" Neville's voice came out in a squeak. "D'you know what's going on?—Ouch—sorry—"

"Hullo, Neville," Harry said tiredly.

"…Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea—sit down—"

There a loud hiss, followed by another yelp of pain from Neville. Chrys let out a breath as something landed on her chest.

Crookshanks' eyes glowed up at her.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," Hermione said determinedly.

"Someone should go with you," Chrys thought, concerned. She stumbled to her feet, Crookshanks shifting his heavy weight onto her shoulder. She walked straight into someone's back "Oof."

"Sorry, Chrys," Neville said.

"I think…" Ron hesitated. "Hermione? Is that you?"

"Yes…"

"I'll go with you."

Chrys heard the door open. Hermione yelped.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that?" _

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron—"

"I'm over here," Ron told her.

"Come sit down," Chrys suggested.

"Not here!" Harry said. "_I'm _here." Ginny let out a noise of frustration.

Chrys yelped as she was bumped into someone's knees. Crookshanks hissed again as he was dislodged.

"Are you alright?" A rough voice asked her.

"Who's that?" Neville wondered. Professor Lupin must have woken up at last.

"Chrys?" Ginny called out. "Where are you?" Chrys opened her mouth.

"Quiet!" The voice above her called out. He pulled her to her feet. Silver flames crackled to life in Professor Lupin's hand. His face was lined and tired, but his eyes were alert, intelligent. "Stay where you are."

The hand pulling open the door was scabbed, slimy and grey. The hand drew back into a cloak. The cloaked figure paused in the doorway. It sucked in a rattling breath. Chrys shivered violently. Her stomach churned. Her head spun.

Harry didn't look much better. He had fallen out of his seat and was convulsing violently on the floor.

"Harry," she croaked out. She couldn't move. It was so cold. Her blood felt like ice. She was frozen stiff. The cloaked figure was gliding forward. Chrys was certain Harry was going to die. And she couldn't do anything about it. She was useless. Her wand was still in her hand, but her throat felt closed up.

She couldn't let Harry die. She needed him. He had always been there. Memories came flooding back. When they were small—the first time Uncle Vernon had locked them in the cupboard under the stairs without food… Harry told her jokes and distracted her from her aching stomach.

Come on—she had to do something—come on—

They had so many close calls, but they had always pulled through in the end. Harry had been poisoned by the basilisk. He was dying, but Fawkes had healed him. She recalled vividly, how alive she felt when he opened his eyes. It was like a pleasant hum of electricity in her veins.

A pulse of light burst from the tip of her wand, pushing the creature back. It turned to look at her. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

Professor Lupin brushed in front of her, and said something to the cloaked figure. Her vision blurred. Someone—a woman—let out an ear-piercing scream.

The feeling was slowly starting to come back to her limbs.

"Chrys!" Hermione was gripping her shoulders hard, shaking her. Chrys tried to say she was fine, but the words were caught in her throat.

"Harry, come on, mate…" Ron lightly slapped at Harry's face.

"W-what!" Harry sat up abruptly. Ron steadied him as he wobbled.

Then lanterns flickered back on and the train started moving again. Chrys let out a sigh. Neville and Hermione helped her get into a seat. Ron was doing the same for Harry.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously, glancing from one twin to the other. Professor Lupin was watching them as well, expression unreadable.

Chrys and Harry locked eyes. He was sweating and shivering. She still felt lightheaded, but… "I'm fine," she managed to say. She looked around. Neville was quiet, and Ginny was pale, but Harry seemed the worse off.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry echoed. He looked at the door. "What happened? Where's that—that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," Ron told him, looking more worried by the second.

Chrys shook her head. "Someone did—a woman, I think," she said. Harry nodded.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, confused.

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking slabs off a chocolate bar, just as giant as the one Hermione had given Chrys for her birthday.

"Here," he said. Chrys happily took a slice and started munching. The warmth spread through her like a hug. Harry accepted a piece, but only stared at it, clearly not in the mood to eat. "Eat it," Lupin pressed. "It'll help."

"What was that thing?" Harry asked again.

"A dementor," Lupin answered, continuing to hand out chocolate. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

"That thing was one of the Azkaban guards!" Chrys said, alarmed.

"Yes." He frowned. "I need to speak to the driver, excuse me." Professor Lupin disappeared into the hallway.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry, Chrys?" Hermione asked nervously.

Chrys shrugged. "I don't get it…" Harry frowned. "What happened?"

"Well—that thing—the dementor—stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face)—and you—"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," Ron interrupted Hermione's rambling. "Harry… you went rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching—"

"—And then Chrys, you were standing up near the door, and you wouldn't move, but this light came out of your wand," Hermione continued. "What spell was that? How did you do nonverbal magic? You know, that's really advanced."

"Your expression was sort of scary, really, Chrys," Ron said, somewhat apologetically. "Like you'd gone mad."

"And then the dementor turned towards you, and Professor Lupin stepped around you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," Hermione went on. "And he said, _'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our Cloaks. Go.'_ But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

"It was horrible," Neville said, his voice high-pitched. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?" Chrys nodded.

"I felt weird," Ron said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…" Ginny let out a small sob. Chrys got up and went to sit next to her instead. She put her arm around the younger girl and gave her what she hoped was a soothing look.

"But none of you… I mean, nobody else fell out of their seats," Harry said awkwardly. "Not even Chrys…" He glanced at her.

Professor Lupin came back, and looked down at the piece of chocolate melting in Harry's hand.

"I haven't poisoned it, you know…" He smiled slightly. Harry took a bite, and blinked, a bit of color coming into his cheeks. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you alright, Harry?"

"I'm fine…" Harry stared down at his feet. Professor Lupin looked at Chrys.

"Chrys?"

She blinked. Most people tended to stumble through her full first name… but it's not as if her nickname was that big of a leap.

"Do you have any more chocolate?" She said hopefully. Professor Lupin chuckled quietly. Hermione gave Chrys a look.

"Haven't you got any left from your birthday? You weren't supposed to eat all of that at once, you know."

"I didn't…" Chrys stretched up and rummaged through her trunk. She pulled out the remaining half of her chocolate bar, and handed everyone (including Professor Lupin, who gave her a full grin this time), a piece.

Everyone was quiet for the rest of the trip.

Chrys was glad when the train pulled to a stop again, even though the rain was still coming down in sheets.

She and Neville paused in the Hogwarts Express doorway.

"Poor Trevor," Neville said, of his pet toad. He shook his head. "He doesn't like getting wet."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought toads liked water?"

"That's frogs, I think."

"What's the difference?"

"Well frogs have skin that—" Hermione started from behind them.

"Not now, Hermione," Harry said tiredly. She frowned, but didn't start up again. She pulled her hood over her hair and stepped out into rain.

"Oh, there's Hagrid," she said over the thundering of raindrops against the platform.

Chrys waved and he spotted them. "All righ', you lot?" Hagrid called out.

They hadn't a chance to respond to him, as the crowd pushed them along.

Chrys and Harry frowned at each other as the crowd turned down a muddy path. Stagecoaches, with reins hanging in midair, lined the road, and students began grabbing them up and waving their friends over.

"What's this?" Chrys asked Hermione.

Hermione blinked. "I forgot you three didn't come in on the train last year," she said, glancing at Harry and Ron, who were also staring at the coaches. She was referring to the time last year when the barrier to 9 ¾ had been blocked off by a well-meaning house elf named Dobby. Unable to catch the train, Harry, Ron and Chrys had borrowed Mr. Weasley's flying car instead.

"The boats are only traditional for first years," Ron recalled. Hermione nodded.

"Something like a rite of passage."

Harry wobbled as they clamored up into one of the coaches. Hermione moved to help him, but he shook her off.

"Invisible horses?" He wondered as the coach began to move. Ron shrugged.

"Must be." He was squinting concernedly at Harry. The carriage rocked, and Chrys, who was already feeling a bit ill, was worse by the time they reached the castle gates.

She shivered, and Harry closed his eyes.

Two dementors were floating above the gates as they passed through.

The carriages pulled to a stop just short of the castle. Chrys eyed the large winged bull statues at the bottom of the stairs, wishing it weren't raining so she could get a sketch down in her notebook. Draco Malfoy suddenly elbowed Hermione to the side, to get up in Harry's personal space.

"You _fainted_, Potter?" He said gleefully. "Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually _fainted_?" Chrys frowned, meaning to have a word with Neville the next time she saw him.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron grunted, his jaw clenched.

"Just get out of the way so we can all get out of the rain," Chrys told Malfoy. He was blocking the entrance. Several students tried to see around the people in front of them and find out what as going on.

"Oh, did you two faint as well?" Malfoy smirked at them. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you?"

"Is there a problem?" Professor Lupin said mildly, coming through the crowd to rest behind Hermione.

Malfoy looked over the professor's shabby robes and suitcase.

"Oh, no—er—_professor_." He jerked his head at Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared up into the castle. Chrys shot Professor Lupin a grateful look. He just smiled vaguely.

They were just about to step into the Great Hall when a familiar voice called through the crowd. Hermione turned around.

"Mr. and Miss Potter, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall (tough, yet fair Transfiguration teacher and deputy headmistress) waved at them. "I need a moment with the three of you!" Harry and Hermione looked at each other in confusion. Chrys shrugged.

"We'd better get over there." They struggled a bit through the crowd. "Stop looking so guilty," Chrys muttered, elbowing Harry's side. "We haven't done anything wrong… probably." He didn't look like he found that so reassuring.

However, Professor McGonagall seemed to be thinking along similar lines to Chrys.

"There's no need to looked so worried, Mr. Potter. I just want a word in my office." She spotted Ron. "Move along, Mr. Weasley." Ron stared as the other three followed quickly after Professor McGonagall.

"Sit down," Professor McGonagall said, gesturing at the chairs lined up in front of her desk. Chrys had been to Professor McGonagall's office several times over the past two years. Each time, Professor McGonagall proved herself shrewdly aware of what was going on with her students, and determined to help in anyway she could. As such, Chrys didn't feel too nervous about being brought here. Chrys sat down and gave the still frowning Harry and Hermione encouraging glances. They sat. "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall began. Harry flushed. "Miss Potter, Professor Lupin hadn't mentioned…"

"Chrys didn't faint, but she did get this blank look on her face and this burst of light came out of her wand," Hermione said in a rush. Chrys frowned at her. Hermione slumped into her chair. Professor McGonagall blinked at Chrys.

"I see…" Professor McGonagall looked curious. "Well, Miss Potter that is—"

Harry turned an even deeper red as Madam Pomfrey (the resident school healer), came bustling in.

"I'm fine," he protested. "I don't need anything—"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" Madam Pomfrey said, as if she should have expected as much. She studied Harry for a moment. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?" She looked to Chrys. "And where Mr. Potter is, Miss Potter isn't far behind."

"It was a dementor, Poppy," Professor McGonagall explained. The two women shared a look of disapproval. Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue.

"Setting dementors around a school." She pushed back Harry's fringe to feel his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate—" She turned quickly to Chrys again. "Miss Potter, are you—"

"I'm not delicate!" Chrys and Harry interrupted in frustrated unison.

"Of course you're not," Madam Pomfrey said in a placating tone, feeling for Harry's pulse. She whirled on Chrys.

I didn't even pass out—" Chrys argued. Harry frowned at her, looking betrayed. She winced.

Professor McGonagall ignored them.

"What does he need?" She asked Madam Pomfrey. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?" Harry groaned. Chrys thought he'd rather face another dementor than have Malfoy find out he spent a night in the hospital wing.

"Honestly," Chrys cut in, looking around at both women. "You know I would tell you if Harry needed bed rest or whatever. Really, he doesn't." Harry's gaze softened.

Madam Pomfrey looked thoughtful.

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least."

"We've already had some," Harry told her. Chrys and Hermione nodded.

"That new Professor Lupin gave us all some," Chrys explained.

"Did he, now?" Madam Pomfrey looked pleased. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Is chocolate really a remedy for, er, post-dementor-stress?" Chrys wondered.

"Are you sure you feel alright, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall went on. Her tone that implied she would know if he lied.

"_Yes_," Harry said emphatically.

"Very well." Professor McGonagall nodded at the twins. "Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harry and Chrys stepped out into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey.

"Miss Potter, how has your eating and sleeping been this summer?" Madam Pomfrey asked Chrys after a moment.

"Oh…" Chrys thought of Dudley stealing all the pie, and Harry doing his homework late into the night. Then she thought of Tom's glorious meals and her first time ever having a room to herself. "Relatively speaking it's been quite good," she said honestly. Madam Pomfrey gave her a strong nod.

"Good." She went off down the corridor, muttering to herself.

Chrys and Harry looked at each other.

"You know… I'm sure I would've collapsed too, if Professor Lupin hadn't done… whatever it was he did to that dementor," she told him.

Harry frowned. "Yeah, but you didn't, and I did…"

She knew what he was thinking.

Over the years, there had been certain incidents… Like when Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss dared Chrys to ride down a hill in a wagon and Chrys broke her arm—Harry crumbled up in pain at the top of the hill. Another time, when Duddley pushed Harry into a swimming pool, and Harry almost drowned—Chrys was off to the side, gasping for air. She'd thought it was just a twin thing. After learning of the existence of magic, she wondered if it was a _magical_ twin thing.

Either way, it was disconcerting for one of them to react differently than the other to something like this.

Before either of them could say anything else, Professor McGonagall and Hermione came out into the hall.

Hermione was looking very pleased with herself.

"Oh," Hermione said as they stepped into the Great Hall. She wilted slightly. "We've missed the Sorting." Professor Flitwick was putting away the Sorting Hat. The Hat matched the student's personality to the qualities each house valued, such as 'bravery' for Gryffindor, and 'ambition' for Slytherin.

Chrys privately thought the houses were not as clear-cut as that. Both she and Harry had asked not to be put into Slytherin, despite the Hat's suggestion—and had gotten what they wanted. Even Dumbledore (the headmaster, renowned for sharp mind and magical ability) had said it was a person's choices over their characteristics, which truly mattered. Of course, Dumbledore was equally well known for his quirks.

Harry frowned, and tried to ignore the usual staring, and flickering of eyes up to the scars on their foreheads. Chrys, on the other hand, tried to catch their eyes and grin back at them until they looked embarrassed.

"What was that all about?" Ron wondered, curious as the other three came to sit near him. Harry opened his mouth to explain, but just then Dumbledore stood up and the hall went silent. Chrys smiled as some of Harry's agitation melted away. Dumbledore was someone Harry admired, and felt safe around.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore called out. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them if very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…" He cleared his throat. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." Dumbledore paused, his expression no longer so cheerful. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks." Most of the students looked confused, but Chrys pretended to be preoccupied by the enchanted ceiling for a moment. The rain had lightened up a bit. (And apparently her dad's invisibility cloak was no match against the creepy dementors). Fred and George, who no doubt had a large collection of tricks and disguises, looked a bit disappointed as well. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses." Chrys shivered. "I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our New Head Boy and Girl…" Chrys smiled slightly, noting the Head Girl was none other than Penelope Clearwater, Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend. Talk about power couple. "… to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." Dumbledore looked around the unusually silent hall. "On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year." Chrys blinked in surprise. Two? "First, Professor Lupin, ho has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." The crowd's applause was generally weak and unenthusiastic, but everyone who had been in that compartment when the dementors arrived, clapped loudly. Chrys kept clapping until her hands hurt.

"Look at Snape!" Ron whispered in Harry's ear. Professor Snape was the potions master, although, it was a common castle rumor that he'd been after the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for years. Chrys tilted her head. The way Snape was glaring at Professor Lupin matched the intensity of the dark looks he usually reserved for her and her brother.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.

Chrys clapped loudly with the rest of the Gryffindor students. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of surprise before joining in.

Hagrid flushed in pride.

"Should've known," Ron thought. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Chrys laughed. Although Hagrid's tendency to underestimate dangerous creatures wasn't exactly a laughing manner, Hagrid was her friend, and she was happy for him. Additionally, she hadn't been sure what to think of Care of Magical Creatures. Although she liked reading about mythological creatures, what was real and what was muggle hogwash… most of the animals she'd met hadn't been so fond of her and vice versa. Their neighbor, Mrs. Figg, who used to babysit the twins sometimes, had twelve plus cats, many of whom liked to sit on Chrys' head and would scratch if she tried to remove them.

Obviously, Chrys had no love for Ripper. And although she'd never tell Ron and Hermione this, Scabbers was a bore and Crookshanks was just odd.

Hagrid's large dog, Fang, was sweet, but drooled too much and was a bit of a coward. Furthermore, Hagrid had raised both a giant spider and a giant three headed dog, both of which would rather kill first and ask questions later.

Hedwig was the first animal Chrys had ever been fond of. From the moment they saw her in the store window, Hedwig looked at them with intelligence and understanding in her eyes. Now, she nibbled at Harry's fingers to say hello, and listened to Chrys when she was feeling down. Hedwig was part of their family.

As such, Chrys thought she'd give some other animals a chance.

Maybe some of the magical creatures would be more like Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix that she'd met last year.

As well as being beautiful, Fawkes had come to save Chrys and Harry in the Chamber of Secrets last year. He sang songs of courage, brought Harry the Sorting Hat (which he'd pulled the sword of Gryffindor, which he used to kill a basilisk, from), and most importantly, healed Harry when he nearly died from the basilisk's poison.

At the very least, Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons had to be interesting.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," Dumbledore finished as Hagrid wiped his teary eyes on the tablecloth. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets filled to the brim with all matter of delicious things. Everyone dug in, the Great Hall humming with chatter and the scraping of forks and knives.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed.

They had waited for the Great Hall to clear out so they could get to the teacher's table at the front of the room.

"All down ter you four," Hagrid said. "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Kettleburn said he'd had enough…"

"Just be sure to try and keep all your limbs," Chrys told him seriously, remembering Dumbledore's comment about Kettleburn. Hagrid chuckled.

"Course I will, Chrys. This job… it's what I always wanted…" With a great big sniffle, he hid his face in his appropriately large napkin. Professor McGonagall shooed them away.


	6. Of Pride and Predictions

The next morning, Draco Malfoy pretended to faint in the hallway. His fellow Slytherins chortled in laughter.

"Ignore him," Hermione said in Harry's ear. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it…"

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. She was Draco Malfoy's female counterpart. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Wooooo!"

"Keep up that skin routine, and you'll look just like them, Parkinson," Padma Patil called out. Chrys grinned. Padma's twin sister Parvati, and her best friend Lavender Brown broke into giggles. Parkinson shrunk back a bit, touching her face.

Padma waved goodbye to the others as she went to sit with her housemates at the Ravenclaw table.

"New third-year course schedules," George said, passing them around the Gryffindor table. Harry sat gloomily next to him. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," Ron said shortly. He glared over at the Slytherin table. George followed his gaze. Malfoy was pretending to swoon again.

"That little git," he said, calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," Fred added. Chrys smiled.

"I wasn't too happy myself," George continued. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" Fred thought. Chrys nodded.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" Harry whispered bitterly.

Chrys held back a sigh.

"Forget it, Harry," George told him. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been. He came back all weak and shaking… they suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there." Chrys resolved to find a book on dementors in the library. Then she blinked, wondering if Hermione had rubbed off on her more than she'd realized.

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," Fred said. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

"Even I can see that our team's loads better than Slytherin's," Chrys cut in. She wasn't so fond of Quidditch, but Harry loved it.

Harry smiled and piled some sausages on his plate.

Hermione was examining her new schedule.

"Ooh, look Chrys, we're starting some new subjects today," she said, nudging Chrys with her elbow.

"Hermione…" Ron frowned as he looked over her shoulder at her schedule. "They've messed up your schedule. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time_."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall," she assured him.

"But, look." Ron laughed nervously. "See this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And…" He leaned in, squinting. "_Look_—and Arithmancy and Double Transfiguration overlap as well. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's _that_ good. How're you supposed to be in two classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said shortly. "Of course I won't be in two classes at once." Chrys blinked. Hermione's tone sounded a bit off. She suddenly wondered what exactly Hermione and Professor McGonagall had talked about the night before.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Well, then—"

Hermione ignored him. "Pass the marmalade."

"But—"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." Ron opened his mouth to argue. Chrys was wondering if she should jump in when Hagrid walked over.

He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat (which Chrys had used for a blanket the night of her eleventh birthday), and swinging a dead polecat from his enormous hand.

"All righ'?" He asked cheerfully.

"Morning, Hagrid," Chrys said. "What's that for?" She motioned at the polecat.

"Just you wait an' see," Hagrid said, grinning widely. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everything' ready… hope it's okay… me, a teacher… hones'ly…." He moved onto the staff table.

"Wonder what he's getting ready?" Ron said anxiously.

"Just be glad you've got a wand that works now," Chrys told him seriously, patting him on the shoulder.

"Right…" Ron glanced at his schedule. "We'd better go. Look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us at least ten minutes to get up there…"

They gulped down their food and moved out of the hall. The Slytherins (led by Malfoy), laughed as Harry passed. Chrys pushed him forward.

"There's…got…to…be…a…shortcut," Ron panted. They had already walked across the castle to the North Tower and were now undertaking the effort of seven flights of stairs.

Chrys gulped in a breath of air as they stopped on a landing. She resolved to ask Dean Thomas—who frequently spoke of his football matches in the summer, what he did to keep in shape.

"I think it's this way," Hermione said, looking to the right.

"Can't be." Ron shook his head. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of lake outside the window…"

Harry, meanwhile, was staring at a painting. The fat grey pony looked up from the grass and stared back at him. A moment later, a knight came running into the frame, his clanking armor covered in grass stains.

"Aha!" He had spotted them. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands? Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!" The little knight pulled a sword out of his scabbard and started swinging it around. Unfortunately, it must have been too heavy, as he fell face first into the grass.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, taking a step closer.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rouge!" The knight grabbed his sword, but it was stuck in the dirt. Chrys tried not to smile. He pulled at his sword again, and then flipped up his visor to wipe at his sweating face.

"Listen," Harry said quickly. "We're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight perked up considerably. "Come follow me, dear, friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge."

"Oh?" Chrys raised an eyebrow, but Harry shrugged and started to follow him on to the next portrait.

"Onward, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

All of them were quite dizzy and out of breath by the time they reached the top of another flight of spiraling staircases.

Chrys sighed in relief. She could hear the sounds of other students nearby.

"Farewell!" The knight cried out. "Farwell, my comrades-in-arms! If you ever have need of a noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you, if we ever need someone mental," Ron muttered as the knight disappeared again.

"Hello, Neville," Chrys said, joining him on the landing. She was about to lecture him on telling Malfoy about Harry's fainting, though, it was Hogwarts, and these things tended to get out.

"Hello, Chrys." He looked around worriedly. "We're trying to find out where the classroom is."

"There are no doors on this landing," Harry noted.

"Not down here," Ron said, pointing at the ceiling. High above any of their heads was a trapdoor. Harry read the brass plaque that marked it.

"_Sibyll Trelawney, Divination_. How're we supposed to get up there?"

As soon as he said this, the door opened and a silver ladder landed just short of his nose.

"After you." Ron bowed graciously, grinning. Harry rolled his eyes and climbed. Chrys gulped, not too fond of heights, but followed.

"It's like a cross between someone's attic and an old fashioned tea shop," Harry muttered to Chrys as they looked around. She nodded. Instead of the usual desks, there were twenty circular tables, with low armchairs and cushions surrounding them. Every available wall space was lined with shelves, which were in turn filled with dusty feathers, candle stumps, tattered playing cards, shiny crystal balls and many kinds of teacups.

Chrys pulled at the collar of her robes. Since red scarves covered the lanterns, the dim orange light coming from the fireplace was welcome, but the heat was not.

Sticks of incense burned in a jar on the professor's desk. Chrys waved the perfumed smoke out of her face.

"Where is she?" Ron wondered.

"Welcome," a voice said from the shadows. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last." Professor Trelawney stepped into the firelight. She was thin, dwarfed further by her bug-eyed glasses and long shimmery shawl. Chrys was surprised she could keep her head up, what with all the heavy beaded necklaces she was wearing. The necklaces and bangles on her wrists clinked as she moved forward. "Sit, my children, sit." Chrys sat cross-legged on a cushion. Harry sat in an armchair while Hermione and Ron fought quietly over another. Hermione won. "Welcome to Divination," Trelawney continued as she sat in her own armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye." Chrys tilted her head. Professor Trelawney adjusted her shawl and cleared her throat. "So, you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts." Chrys blinked. She hadn't heard any of the older students or professors who Hermione spoke to say that. In fact, they'd said much of the opposite. "I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you." Oh, well, Chrys supposed that made sense. "Books can take you only so far in the world…" Harry and Ron grinned at Hermione, whose eyes were wide. Chrys suppressed a laugh. "Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings…" That sounded perfectly fun to Chrys. "…are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future. It is a Gift granted to few." Professor Trelawney looked around at all of the nervous faces, and focused on one in particular. "You, boy." Neville nearly fell over. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so." Neville shivered.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," Professor Trelawney told him. Neville swallowed. Chrys frowned. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear—" She looked suddenly at Parvati. "—Beware a red-haired man." Parvati, who was at the table next to them, gave Ron a suspicious look and scooted away from him. Chrys snorted. Professor Trelawney noticed, and frowned at her before continuing. "We shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever." The silence that followed was tense. Chrys thought these predictions were rather vague, and wondered if Professor Trelawney had purposefully left them like this to be dramatic, or that was just the way these things worked. "I wonder, dear." She looked to Lavender next. Chrys did not blame Lavender for sinking into her chair. "If you could pass me the largest silver teapot." Lavender let out a breath and did this. "Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Wednesday the thirteenth of October." Lavender wobbled all the way back to her seat. Chrys patted her on the shoulder. "Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink. Drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand…" Chrys wiggled her dominant left hand triumphantly. "… then turn the cup upside down onto the saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future._ I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear—" She caught Neville by the arm as he stood. "—After you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Chrys frowned. Neville was shaking so much, that sure enough he dropped a cup.

"_Wingardium leviosa_!" Chrys said quickly, catching the cup with her spell just before it smashed against the ground. She levitated it neatly to Neville's table. He gave her an extremely grateful look. She smiled. Professor Trelawney frowned at her again.

"Good on you," Hermione said firmly, as they got their own cups.

Chrys burnt her tongue drinking her tea too quickly—Hermione gave her a look before switching cups with her.

"Okay." Hermione looked at page five and six of the textbook. She squinted at the lump of dredges. "…I don't see anything that looks like anything." Across the table, Harry let out a loud yawn.

"Broaden your minds, my dear, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney called out.

"Let me try…" Chrys stared into the cup, and then at the book. "Um… well, this is rather like seeing shapes in clouds, isn't it? Huh. This blob could be a clock, which, aptly, represents time." Hermione stiffened. "Or, specifically that you need to make good use of your time." Chrys rotated the cup. "And this blob could be a sun… which, predictably…" She giggled. "... Means happiness." She cleared her throat. "So, my conclusion is, Hermione, if you make good use of your time, you will achieve happiness."

"This method isn't very logical," Hermione said, lips twitching nonetheless.

"…it looks like a hippo, no a sheep," Ron was muttering, about Harry's cup.

"Let me see that, my dear," Professor Trelawney said, swooping over and grabbing Harry's cup. All the other students fell silent, trying to look like they weren't watching. She stared into the cup, and rotated it as was written in the book. "The flacon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

Chrys let out a laugh. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, everyone knows Harry and I don't exactly see eye to eye with a certain dark wizard," she said, loud enough for everyone else to hear without straining.

Hermione nodded. "It's common knowledge," she agreed. Harry and Ron gave Hermione happily surprised glances. Hermione usually wasn't one to speak up to teachers.

"And I see, you have failed to interrupt your partner's cup," Professor Trelawney said pointedly, reaching her hand out to Hermione. Hermione reluctantly handed over Chrys' cup. "The club, an attack."

Chrys leaned up and squinted in the cup.

"Looks more like a boot to me."

"You never read your own tea leaves!" Professor Trelawney said sharply. "Let me continue." She turned the cup. "The skull, danger in your path… oh, dear, this is not a happy cup." She turned the cup the last time, and then let out a gasp. She screamed. There was a crash. Neville had broken his teacup. Chrys gave him an annoyed look, though her feelings had more to do with Professor Trelawney, who was now sinking into her armchair with her eyes closed. "My dear girl…" She clutched a hand to her chest, her large crystal ring glittering in the firelight. "My poor, dear girl… no… it is kinder not to say… no… don't ask me…"

"I'm not afraid," Chrys said confidently. She had faced too much to be scared of tea leaves. Harry's brow furrowed.

"What is it, Professor?" Dean Thomas pressed. He, and several other people stood up, trying to get a peek into Chrys' cup.

"My dear…" Professor Trelawney's eyes flickered open. "You have the Grim."

"The what?" Chrys and Harry asked at the same time. Dean shrugged. Lavender frowned thoughtfully… but nearly everyone else clapped their hands to their mouths. Even Ron went a bit pale.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim! The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards!"

"Oh, okay." Chrys nodded a bit. She seemed to recall reading something like that in one of the _Myths: Fact or Fiction? _books. The big black dog in the church graveyard had been in the Gaelic section, but she couldn't remember much more than that. Had the Grim been real, or not? "I'm guessing they have something to do with death?" Professor Trelawney looked shocked at her nonchalance.

"The Grim is an omen of death," she confirmed slowly. Lavender gasped. Then everyone was silent. Harry looked like he was thinking, hard.

Then Hermione got up and moved around Professor Trelawney to peer into the cup.

"_I _don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

"Well, thanks Hermione," Chrys said, not really caring one way or another. If she worried about what might happen, she would waste her life away with worry. The best she could do was be aware of a possibility, and choose a course of action if it did happen. Like, she could be aware of Sirius Black being after them, but she couldn't do anything about it unless he actually attacked.

Professor Trelawney gave Hermione a distasteful look.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus tilted his head. "It looks like a Grim if you do this." He squinted his eyes. "…But it looks like a donkey from here." He leaned to the left. Chrys grinned.

"Does a donkey mean I'm a stubborn a—"

"If you're all quite finished deciding whether or not my sister is going to die or not!" Harry said sharply.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," Professor Trelawney decided. "Yes… please pack away your things…" The class was quiet as they packed up. Most people, even Ron, were avoiding meeting Chrys' eye. Harry, however, was frowning at her. "Until we meet again, fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear…" She pointed at Neville. "You'll be late next time, so mind you work extra hard to catch up."

"I wish she'd stop picking on Neville," Chrys said as they had all reached the landing. Hermione nodded, moving towards the stairs. "And poor Lavender was—"

"What about you?" Harry said pointedly. "This Grim…" He looked around, and spotted several of their classmates pretending not to watch them. "We'll talk later."

Chrys shrugged.

Chrys had hoped her classmates would've calmed down after the long walk from Divination to Transfiguration, but no such luck.

While the stares didn't bother her nearly as much as they bothered Harry, she wasn't sure what to do in response to Neville and Parvati's looks of concern. She particularly didn't know what to do about Ron, who looked about ready to grab her and drag her to the Hospital Wing.

She followed Harry and sat down next to him in the back, instead of next to Hermione in the front, as she usually did. Ron exchanged a look with Hermione. Hermione sighed and reluctantly came to sit in the back as well.

"Ron, I'm not going to just suddenly drop dead, and if I do, I don't think there's anything you could do about it," Chrys told him in a whisper. He frowned.

Hermione snorted.

"Come on, Chrys," she said. "This is an interesting lesson. Animagi are very…"

Chrys tuned her out. Yes, wizards who could turn into animals were fascinating, but she was feeling rather preoccupied at the moment.

She sighed as Professor McGonagall abruptly transformed into a tabby cat.

"Really, what has got into all you today?" Professor McGonagall wondered as she popped back into a human. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Chrys went to clap politely, but stopped as the class peered back at her.

Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and—"

"Ah, of course." Professor McGonagall frowned. "There is no need to say anymore, Miss Granger. Tell me, which one of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," Chrys said, waving cheerfully.

"I see…" Professor McGonagall met her eyes. "Then you should know, Miss Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues…" Her nostrils flared. She took a breath and continued more calmly. "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…" She smiled grimly at Chrys. "You look in excellent health to me, Miss Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

"I'll hold you to that," Chrys said, laughing with Hermione. Harry let out a breath.

However, Ron was still frowning.

Lavender muttered to Parvati, "But, what about Neville's cup?"

"Ron, cheer up," Hermione told him as they sat down for lunch. She ladled a big helping of stew into his bowl. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron hovered his spoon over his plate.

"Chrys…" He turned to her, looking quite serious all of a sudden. "You _haven't _seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

Chrys swallowed a mouthful of food.

"I dunno…" She looked at Harry. "Do you think that thing at Magnolia Crescent was a big dog or a small bear?" Harry frowned. Ron dropped his fork.

"Probably a stray dog," Hermione said calmly. "If a bear had escaped from a zoo, or whatever, I'll expect I would have heard about it in the muggle news, Chrys."

Chrys nodded thoughtfully. "Chrys!" Ron snapped. "If you've seen a Grim, that's—that's bad." He paused. "Harry, you were there too?"

"Well, we don't know it was a Grim…" Harry titled his head. "Although, we did see this book on death omens in Flourish and Blotts, and the thing on the cover did look sort of similar to the thing in Magnolia Crescent."

Ron gulped. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Hermione, this is serious," he insisted. "My—my uncle Bilius saw one and—and he died twenty-four hours later."

"Well, I'd already be dead then," Chrys pointed out.

"Me too," Harry added. Ron frowned.

"Coincidence," Hermione thought. She held up a pitcher. "Pumpkin juice, Harry?"

"Er, sure."

She poured him some juice. Ron shook his head, clearly frustrated.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hermione! Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"Well, there you are then. They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death!" She reasoned. "And Chrys is still with us because she's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then."

"I'm glad you think so highly of me, Hermione," Chrys said, grinning as she cleaned her plate. Ron gaped at Hermione, who pulled out her Arithmancy book, and plopped it heavily on the table.

"I think Divination seems very woolly." She flipped through her book. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There's nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" Ron argued.

Chrys pulled out her _Unfogging the Future._

"Well, if Seamus was right, and it's a donkey, then it means I should be patient when it comes to money." She paused. "And most dogs are little woolly, Ron."

Harry shook his head. "I thought you were done with the puns."

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura!" Ron said to Hermione, ignoring the twins. "You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

Hermione slammed her book shut. Chrys pulled _her_ book out of the way as bits of stew splashed onto the table.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!" She grabbed her bag and stomped off.

Ron blinked. "What's she talking about? She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

Harry and Chrys shrugged identically.

Harry took a deep breath of the fresh air as they stepped out onto the grounds. Chrys nearly slipped down the hill. The grass still wet from yesterday's rain. Ron and Hermione both reached out to steady her. They frowned as they met eyes, and quickly looked away from each other.

After a few minutes, Harry broke the silence.

"Uh-oh. Looks like the Slytherins are here too." He frowned at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were turning their noses up at Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid was standing in front of his door as Fang pranced around.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" He called out. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

"I hope we're not heading into the forest," Harry muttered, wary as he watched which direction Hagrid was heading in.

Luckily, Hagrid led them away from the trees. They stopped at an empty paddock.

"Everyone gather round the fence here! That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—

"How?" Draco Malfoy called out. Chrys was loath to say she'd been thinking the same thing.

"Eh?" Hagrid stared at him.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy elaborated. He took out his copy, which was bound with rope.

"Hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked, disappointed. The class shook their heads. Chrys rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeh've got ter _stroke_ 'em. Look—" He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the dental floss she'd bound it with. Hermione was about to protest, when Hagrid ran his large finger over the spine. The book fell open without a single snap.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have _stroked _them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I—I thought they were funny," Hagrid said, uncertainly looking at Chrys.

"Err—" She wasn't sure she could lie about that.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Malfoy said. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said in a dark undertone. Hagrid looked flustered.

"Go on, _Professor_," Chrys told Hagrid encouragingly. He smiled a bit.

"Professor…righ' then." He cleared his throat. "So, yeh've got yer book, an' now yeh need the Magical Creatures. So, I'll just go get them. Hang on…" He disappeared into the nearest bit of forest.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," Malfoy complained loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him—"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry and Chrys said together.

"Careful, Potter. There's a dementor behind—"

"Ooh!" Lavender said excitedly. She pointed at the paddock, where Hagrid had reappeared with several interesting creatures.

Chrys stared at the horse-like animals, with heads and talons like an eagle's. Each bird-horse was wearing a collar attached to a chain. Hagrid led them forward by the chains.

Mostly everyone drew back as Hagrid tied the animals to a post at the front of the paddock. Lavender and Chrys hesitantly hung forward.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid said, happily gesturing at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

"Yeah," Chrys breathed, as Lavender nodded slowly. Chrys thought she saw one of the Hippogriffs preen at the sound of her voice. Its multi-colored feathers glinted in the sunlight as it raised its head.

"So." Hagrid rubbed his hands together. "If anyone else wants ter come a bit nearer…." For a moment, no one moved. Then, Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped up. "Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, cause it might be the last thing yeh do." Harry glanced back at Malfoy, who was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry frowned. "Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn't bow, then get away from him sharpish, cause those talons hurt." He smiled around at them. "Right—who wants ter go first?" Most of the class took yet another step back.

Chrys tilted her head. "I'll give it a go."

Hagrid beamed. Ron and Hermione shot her worried looks. Harry looked like he was trying not to sigh.

"Ooh, no, Chrys, remember your tea leaves!" Parvati whispered. Lavender frowned. Hermione's look of worry was replaced by one of stubborn annoyance. She gave Chrys a quick nod.

Chrys climbed over the fence, Hagrid helping her down the other side.

"Good girl, Chrys!" Hagrid told her. "Right then—let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak." Chrys tensed slightly as Hagrid undid one of the chains, pulling a hippogriff apart from the others. He clicked off the collar.

The class was so silent Chrys thought they might have forgotten to breathe. Malfoy was looking quite excited for things to go wrong.

"So… I go up to him and… bow?" Chrys repeated, unsure. Hagrid nodded. She took a step forward. Buckbeak stared at her with big orange eyes.

"Easy, now, Chrys. Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriff's don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…" He told her. Her eyes started to water, but she ignored them. "Tha's it. Tha's it, Chrys… now, bow…" She lowered her head, held that position for a moment, and then looked up. She tried not to blink. "Ah… right…" Hagrid was starting to sound worried. "Now, Chrys, back away. Easy does it—"

There were several gasps from the crowd behind her, as Buckbeak lowered onto his front knees and lowered his head.

"Hello, Buckbeak," Chrys said quietly.

"Well done, Chrys!" Hagrid cried out. Chrys smiled at the pride in his voice. "Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on." Chrys hesitated, but then figured she might as well. She held her hand out. Buckbeak looked suspicious, but she stayed still. Then he moved forward and nudged his beak under her hand. She patted him, and he closed his eyes. The class broke into applause. Chrys didn't look away from Buckbeak, who glanced behind her, annoyed. "Righ' then, Chrys," Hagrid continued. "I reckon he might let yeh ride him."

Chrys tensed. Buckbeak was quite high off the ground—and he had wings. What if he decided to takeoff?

"Hagrid…"

"My turn," Harry said hurriedly. Before she knew it, he was over the fence and standing next to her. Buckbeak stared at him. Harry stared back and then bowed. After a moment of deliberation, Buckbeak returned the gesture.

Hagrid plopped Harry onto Buckbeak's back, and showed him where to put his hands and knees.

"An' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…. Go on then!" Hagrid slapped Buckbeak on the backside. Then he grabbed Chrys and pulled her backwards, just as Buckbeak opened his wings. Harry wrapped his arms around Buckbeak's neck, just as he took off.

Buckbeak flew once around the paddock before landing.

Harry slipped off, somehow managing to land on his feet.

"Good work, Harry!" Hagrid said as the Gryffindors cheered. Chrys gave her brother a grateful look. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

The other students flooded into the paddock.

Harry and Chrys leaned against the fence, watching the other students bow with varying degrees of success. Neville had to run backwards from his hippogriff. Unfortunately, Malfoy had success with Buckbeak.

"This is very easy," Malfoy bragged, petting Buckbeak's beak. "I knew it must have been, if the Potters could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" He sneered. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Buckbeak reared up on his hind legs and swiped at Malfoy with his talons. Malfoy moaned from the ground, blood seeping through his robes as Hagrid wrestled Buckbeak back into his collar.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy groaned. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

Very loud for a dead person, Chrys thought.

"Yer not dyin'," Hagrid said, going pale.

"Hagrid—we'd better take him to Madame Pomfrey!" She called over. Hagrid nodded.

"Someone help me with the gate…"

Hermione ran to open the gate, as Hagrid scooped up Malfoy liked a baby and ran off towards the castle.

Pansay Parkinson stared tearfully at the blood splattered on the grass.

"They should fire him straight away!"

Several Slytherins murmured their agreement.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" Dean argued. Crabbe and Goyle stepped towards him. Chrys stepped up too.

"Settle down," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Why don't you lot go see how your friend is doing—right, Parkinson?"

Pansy pursed her lips. Then she turned to Crabbe and Goyle, giving them a terse nod. Those three stomped up to the castle, many other Slytherins trailing after them.

"D'you think he'll be alright?" Hermione asked nervously as they headed back to the castle.

"Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," Harry told her knowledgably. Chrys nodded distractedly.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" Ron thought. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him…"

"Speaking of first classes, we've got our first Ancient Runes lesson, Chrys," Hermione said, snatching up Harry's hand to check his watch.

"And we've got a break, Harry," Ron told him cheerfully, as Harry eased out of her grip. He waved as Hermione basically pushed Chrys forward. "See you in Herbology!"

"I wish someone had told me Ancient Runes was gonna be almost entirely theoretical," Chrys complained. She had thought she would be able to _use_ the runes, like for protection and light-hearted curses. Unfortunately, it seemed that most runes were now forbidden from use.

Doubly unfortunate, Professor Bathsheda Babbling was aptly named. The elderly crooked back witch barely paused to take a breath as she lectured straight for the forty-five minute class.

Hermione frowned. "Percy told me last year, when we were signing up for classes."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Chrys wondered. They waited for one of the staircases to move, so they could get down to the Greenhouses. "You know I prefer practical lessons." Hermione adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder.

"Chrys—your reading proficiency is nearly at my level, if you put in the effort, you could do great in a theoretical class—not to mention you how much you could improve in potions." Hermione glared. Chrys rubbed the back of her neck. She did have a habit of skimming the reading in potions, which led her to making some rudimentary mistakes in class. Needless to say, Hermione, her partner in that class, wasn't thrilled. "And, well…" Hermione flushed slightly. "It is nice to have a friend in at least _some_ of my classes."

Chrys smiled slightly. "Okay, Hermione. I'll work harder at the reading."

Later at dinner, Hagrid wasn't at the staff table.

"They _wouldn't_ fire him, would they?" Hermione wondered, not touching her food.

"They'd better not." Even Ron wasn't eating.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin table. A large group of them were huddled together, talking quietly.

"What are they up to?" Chrys wondered.

"Probably coming up with their own version of how Malfoy's been injured," Harry thought.

Up in the common room, Ron pushed his homework aside. He kept crossing out and rewriting the same sentence.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," he mused, leaning on his arm. Chrys snorted.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said, glancing over her shoulder. Chrys twisted around to look.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him." Ron glanced at his watch. "It's still quite early…"

"I don't know." Hermione looked hesitantly at Chrys and Harry.

Harry huffed. "I'm allowed to walk across the _grounds_," he reminded her. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors yet, has he?"

Chrys frowned. "Well, he's done it before," she pointed out. Harry ignored her and pulled on his cloak.

"C'min!" Hagrid shouted. Ron opened the door.

Chrys wrinkled her nose as they stepped into Hagrid's hut. It smelled heavily of alcohol. She spotted the metal tankard the size of her head, and determinedly went to pour it out in the sink. Hagrid looked as if he'd like to protest, but wobbled a bit as he tried to stand.

Hermione helped him sit back down.

"'spect it's a record," he said thickly. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

Hermione gasped. "You haven't been fired, Hagrid!"

"Not yet." Hagrid stared longingly at his now empty tankard. "But 's only a matter o' time, in't it, after Malfoy…"

"How is he? Ron asked, sitting down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could, but he's sayin' it's still agony… covered in bandages… moanin'," he told them.

"He's faking it," Harry and Chrys said at the same time.

"Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year," Harry added. He shook his head. "Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."

"School gov'nors have been told, o'course," Hagrid continued. Chrys frowned, remembering how Malfoy Sr. had bullied them into suspending Dumbledore last year. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later… done flobberworms or summat… jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson… s' all my fault…"

"It's all _Malfoy's_ fault, Hagrid!" Hermione said firmly. The other three nodded.

"We're witnesses," Harry told him. "You said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"I doubt it's Dumbledore we need to convince," Chrys said, grimacing.

"Whoever it is we need to talk to—we've got your back Hagrid," Ron assured him. "Don't worry."

Hagrid burst into a spray of tears. He reached over and pulled Harry and Ron (who were closest) into a strangling hug.

"Feeling any better, Hagrid?" Chrys asked, patting his shoulder. She knew a good cry could help sometimes. He nodded, tears shaking off and pelting her.

"One mo'." He popped out.

There was a loud splash.

"What's he done?" Harry said nervously. Hermione pressed her face against the window.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," she told them. She eyed the tankard in the sink, and moved to rinse it out before putting it away.

Hagrid's hair was soaked and dripping when he came back. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Tha's better." He shook his head, spraying them all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come a' see me, I really—" He blinked suddenly, looking from Chrys to Harry. "WHAT'D YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN' EH?" Chrys jumped nearly a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, YOU TWO! AN' RON AND HERMIONE, WHAT ARE YEH DOIN' LETTIN' 'EM!"

"But, Hagrid—"

"No!" He grabbed each twin by the arm and pulled them to the door. "I'm takin' yer all back up to the school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down to see me after dark again. I'm not worth that."

"Yeah you are," Chrys said quietly.


	7. Of Frogs and Fears

Chrys was washing her hands in-between chopping ingredients, when Malfoy walked into their Double Potions lesson. She glared. He smirked back at her.

"Miss me?" He said in typical Malfoy fashion.

"Just amazed at how much of a wimp you are—whinging in the hospital wing all night over one measly scratch," she countered. His smirk faltered slightly.

"Yeah, well, can't help if that oaf put me in danger like that." He adjusted the sling on his bandage arm. Chrys opened her mouth to argue, but Pansy slipped in-between them.

"How is it, Draco?" Pansy cooed. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah." Malfoy grimaced bravely. He gave Chrys a wink as Pansy turned to watch Snape walk over to them.

"Settle down, settle down," Snape said. Chrys dried her hands and went back to her desk. Harry and Ron shared a look of annoyance. Chrys knew either of them would've gotten detention for walking in late. Chrys frowned as Malfoy moved past his regular seat, to sit behind to her and Hermione.

"Sir," Malfoy called out. "Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

"Miss Potter, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said, looking over some papers. Chrys made a rude gesture at Malfoy. He just grinned, looking pointedly at his roots. She grumbled and dumped them on to her cutting board.

"Can you handle the rest of our ingredients for now?" Chrys asked Hermione quietly.

Hermione sighed. "Well, I'll have to, won't I?"

Ron scowled. "There's nothing wrong with your arm—stop making Chrys do all your work, Malfoy!" He hissed in an undertone.

"Professor," Malfoy called out. "I'll need this shrivelfig skinned."

"Granger, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Snape said.

"But sir—we won't have any time to finish prepping our own ingredients!" Hermione said shrilly.

"Well, I suggest you work harder then, Granger."

Chrys let out a groan. Snape looked amused.

Hermione skinned the shrivelfig as quickly as she could, and nearly slapped Malfoy with it as she slung it back on his desk.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Malfoy continued chatting. Hermione and Chrys ignored him as they took inventory of the rest of their ingredients.

"Right, so I'll finish chopping these caterpillars," Hermione said. "And Chrys you can—"

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy said, in a tone of mock sorrow. Hermione squinted at him. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"

"Keep talking, and I'll give you a real injury, Malfoy," Chrys grunted. Hermione shot her a warning look.

"—he's complained to the school governors. _And_ to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this…" He let out a sigh. "…Who knows it my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"Chrys, you've got juice the leeches _into the bowl_," Hermione pressed. Chrys looked down. She'd accidentally squashed one of the leeches in her fist.

"Sorry, Hermione," she said, through her gritted teeth. Hermione sighed and started mopping up their cutting board.

Meanwhile, Neville was in trouble.

"Orange, Longbottom," Snape noted of his potion. He ladled some up and poured it back into the cauldron. The potion was supposed to be a bright green at this point. Snape looked gleeful as Neville shrunk back. "Tell me boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was flushed, and shaking.

"Please, sir." Hermione stood up. "Please, I could help Neville put it right—"

"Oh, so you're too pressed for time to help Malfoy—who is injured—with his potion—but you'll find the time to help bumbling Longbottom with his?" Snape tutted at her. Hermione flushed as well. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

"Help me!" Neville mouthed to Hermione.

"Oh…" Hermione glanced from him, to their own incomplete potion, to the expectant looking Malfoy.

"We'll help," Harry said. "Hermione, you focus on Neville. Chrys, you finish yours and Hermione's potion. Ron, let's finish chopping Malfoy's ingredients."

Chrys half expected Ron to complain, but he just walked up and grabbed Malfoy's ingredients with a glare. Crabbe, who was supposed to be Malfoy's partner, laughed at Ron's expression.

"What good are you anyway?" Chrys muttered.

Crabbe frowned at her. "You have other talents," Malfoy told him soothingly.

"Hey, Harry," Seamus said from behind them. "Have you heard? _Daily Prophet _this morning—they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted." Chrys narrowly avoided chopping her finger off as her knife slipped. Malfoy tilted his head, listening.

"Where?" Harry and Ron said in unison.

"Not too far from here," Seamus continued conversationally. "It was a muggle who saw him. Course, she didn't really understand. The muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here…" Ron gave Harry a significant look. Malfoy smirked. "Need something else skinned, Malfoy?" Ron barked at him. Malfoy leaned over Chrys, looking from her to Harry.  
"You two thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said uninterestedly. Chrys hated to admit that she was a bit interested. Malfoy's expression told her he was up to something.

"Of course, if it was me, I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy," he said quietly. "I'd be out there looking for him." Chrys frowned, wondering if Malfoy had somehow found out Black was after her and Harry. Lucius Malfoy was friendly with the Minister of Magic…

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron grunted.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You don't know…" He grinned.

"Know what?" Harry said, curiosity getting the better of him. Malfoy chuckled.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck. Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"_What are you talking about_?" Harry pressed.

"You should have finished adding your ingredients by now," Snape suddenly announced. Chrys froze. She hadn't finished. "This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers, and then we'll test Longbottom's…." Crabbe and Goyle cackled.

Hermione kept whispering instructions to Neville, out of the corner of her mouth.

Chrys hurriedly shook her rat spleen before tossing it in the cauldron, followed by the cowsbane.

At the end of the lesson, Snape came to stand in front of Neville's cauldron. The other students gathered around.

"Watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned," he told them. Lavender shot Neville a concerned look. Snape picked up Trevor the toad and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion. Then he trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

The room was silent.

_Pop!_ Snape frowned at the tadpole wriggling around in his palm.

"Yes!" Chrys exclaimed as the other Gryffindors cheered. Snape scowled as he took another potion from his pocket, and turned Trevor back to normal.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he said suddenly. The Gryffindors frowned confusedly at him. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger."

"That's ridiculous!" Chrys said loudly. "Hermione prepped ingredients for two potions _and_ helped with a third. You should be giving her points—not taking them away."

Snape sneered.

"Five more points from Gryffindor—shall we continue, Miss Potter?"

Hermione shook her head nervously.

"N-no, Professor." She grabbed Chrys' arm. "Come on, Chrys!"

Harry had his thoughtful frowning face on as they left the dungeons.

"Chrys is right," Ron grumbled in the corridor. "Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!" Chrys frowned.

"Hermione doesn't…" She trailed off. "Hang on—where is Hermione?" She and Ron looked around confusedly. Harry resurfaced from his thoughts and craned his neck over the crowd of other students.

"She was right behind us," Ron said.

"There she is." Harry gestured. Hermione came jogging towards them, slightly out of breath as her heavy bag and frizzy hair bounced.

"How did you do that?" Ron wondered.

Hermione blinked at him. "What?"

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again," Ron elaborated.

"What?" Hermione repeated. She suddenly adjusted the collar of her robes. "Oh! I had to… go back for something—" The seam of her bag split. "—Oh no!"

"_Reparo_!" Chrys muttered. The seam mended itself.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Chrys." Hermione let out a breath.

"No problem." Chrys ducked down to help her collect her fallen books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked.

"You know how many subject I'm taking," Hermione reminded him. She shoved some books into his hands. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But—" Ron protested. He looked over the titles. "You've got books for all your classes here—not just the ones you have today."

"Oh, yes…" Hermione cleared her throat and shoved her books back into her bag. "Well, lots of homework and things…" She marched off towards the Great Hall. "I hope there's something good for lunch. I'm starving."

"Do you ever get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked them, watching her back. Harry shrugged.

"A woman of mystery," Chrys said, wiggling her fingers mysteriously in the air. Ron nodded seriously.

After lunch was their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year.

Hermione neatly lined up her jar of ink, quill, book, and parchment on her desk.

Professor Lupin strolled in after most of the class had already sat down. His smile was tired, but at least he had a bit more color in his cheeks than he'd had on the train.

"A couple of Hogwarts meals can do you good," Harry said quietly, thinking along the same lines. Chrys nodded.

"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin said. "Would you please put all your book back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson."

"Yes!" Chrys said a bit too loudly. Professor Lupin's lips twitched. Chrys blushed.

"You will only need your wands," he continued.

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"As long as it's not pixies," Harry thought under his breath. Neville subconsciously rubbed at his ears. Last year, the inept Professor Lockhart had released a horde of pixies at them. Neville had been strung up to the chandelier by his ears.

"Right then." Professor Lupin looked around to make sure everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me." Hermione and Ron exchanged a confused look, but stood up from their desks and followed the class down the corridor.

The corridor was mostly empty, except for Peeves the poltergeist who was floating upside down, concentrating on stuffing a wad of gum in a nearby keyhole.

Peeves looked up as Lupin got closer.

"Loony, loopy Lupin!" Peeves sang. Chrys frowned. Peeves' talent for tongue twisters aside, she didn't like him teasing the one Defense teacher so far who seemed to have potential. Particularly after he helped them on the train. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin—"

Lupin merely smiled benignly back at him.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said in a tone that matched his smile. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

"Funny, Peeves usually respects teachers… a bit," Harry whispered. Chrys nodded. Although to Peeves most people (especially Filch the cantankerous castle caretaker) were fair game—he did have some level of regard for the teachers.

Peeves blew a raspberry at Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin sighed. "This is a useful little spell," he told them over his shoulder. "Please watch closely." He raised his wand. "_Waddiswasi!"_ The wad of chewing gum suddenly shot out of the keyhole and up Peeves' nostril.

Several students laughed.

"That sounds like a self-made spell to me," Hermione said, sounding like she was still deciding about whether or not to be impressed.

Dean Thomas had no such issue. "Cool, sir!"

"Thank you, Dean," Professor Lupin said, tucking away his wand. Chrys smiled. The fact that Professor Lupin already had Dean's name memorized was another point in his favor. Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher who may well have been teaching at Hogwarts for over a hundred years (through life and death), had no memory for any of his students. Well, Chrys supposed he had seen a lot of them over the years. Maybe the faces just blended together at this point. "Shall we proceed?"

Chrys blinked in surprise as they stopped outside the staff room.

"Inside, please," Professor Lupin said, opening the door for them.

Harry's nose wrinkled.

Snape was settled in an armchair. He looked up at them and sneered. Professor Lupin gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going to close the door.

"Leave it open, Lupin," Snape told him. Chrys titled her head. Teachers usually referred to each other by first name—plus, that patented Snape sneer was a bit much when directed at a peer. "I'd rather not witness this." Witness what? Chrys wondered. Hopefully this lesson wouldn't end as badly as Hagrid's first had. Still, she was not sad to see Snape go—especially after he paused at the doorway. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville and Hermione flushed. Without a word, Chrys and Harry moved forward next to Neville, glaring at Snape as if daring him to say anything else.

Professor Lupin looked unperturbed.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, raising his eyebrows. "And I am sure he will preform it admirably." Neville went even redder. Snape said nothing as he left. "Now, then." Professor Lupin beckoned them further into the room. Chrys recognized the wardrobe she and her friends had hidden in last year, to spy on one of the staff meetings. Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, and the whole thing jerked backwards, slamming against the wall. Lavender jumped. Neville backed up a step. "Nothing to worry about," Lupin told them. "There's a boggart in there." Lavender and Neville exchanged a frightened look. Parvati gripped her wand. Seamus eyed the still shaking wardrobe apprehensively. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Lupin explained. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboard under sinks—I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather cloak." Chrys thought these creatures sounded rather like the muggle boogieman—except real. "_This_ one moved in yesterday afternoon and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice." He straightened up. "So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is _a boggart?"

Chrys had been wondering.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione raised her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she went on without waiting to be called. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself." Professor Lupin nodded approvingly. Hermione beamed. "So, the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears." Neville gasped. "This means, that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, ho was pouncing on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air.

He grimaced. "Er—because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" He guessed.

"Precisely," Professor Lupin told him. Hermione looked a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake—tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening." Chrys wondered what the boggart would turn into for her. When she thought about fear, she thought about Tom Riddle (the memory of Voldemort as a schoolboy, which had nearly sapped the life out of Ginny Weasley), or the giant snake, which had been his to command. Still, after the memory had dissipated and the snake had been killed, she didn't think she could call them her worst fear. "The charm that repeals a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is _laughter_." Chrys stared at the professor. "What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing." Chrys thought for a moment: a pig in a wig, Malfoy with red and gold hair, Ron beating Hermione at wizarding chess. "We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… _riddikulus!"_

"_Riddikulus!"_ The class repeated.

"Good," Lupin said. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville." Neville was shaking almost as badly as the wardrobe now. "Right, Neville. First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" Neville squeaked. "Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry." Professor Lupin gave him an encouraging look.

"Professor Snape," he said. Everyone laughed. Hermione frowned at them, but Neville seemed to relax a bit.

"Professor Snape… hmmm…" Professor Lupin repeated thoughtfully. "Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er—yes, but—I don't want the boggart to turn into her either," he said nervously. Harry gave him a sympathetic look.

"No, no, you misunderstand me," Professor Lupin told him. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville blinked rapidly. "Well… always the same hat: a tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" Professor Lupin prompted. Neville nodded.

"A big red one."

"Right then. Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes…" Neville said slowly, clearly wondering where he was going with this. Chrys thought she knew. She looked expectantly at Professor Lupin.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape. And you will raise your wand—thus…" He demonstrated. "… and cry, '_Riddikulus!'—_and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with the big red handbag," Professor Lupin explained. The whole class laughed again. Chrys grinned. She was starting to think Professor Lupin had a very nice sense of humor indeed. "If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you the most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…"

Chrys still couldn't think of what she feared the most. She glanced at Harry, who was shivering. She thought she knew what he was thinking about. And while the dementors had been terrifying, there had been something else about the situation on the train, which really tugged at her gut. Seeing Harry collapse in front of her while she was helpless to do anything was the worst feeling imaginable.

And frankly, she couldn't think of anything that would make this funny. Maybe if he popped up again? That would be more relief than laughter—although people laughed out of relief, didn't they?

Unfortunately, everyone else seemed to have sorted out their own boggarts.

"Take its legs off," Ron, whose worst fear was spiders, muttered under his breath.

"Everyone ready?" Professor Lupin asked. Chrys and Harry exchanged a grim look as everyone else nodded. "Neville, we're going to back away," Professor Lupin told him. "Let you have a clear field, alright? I'll call the next person forward… everyone back now, so Neville can get a clear shot—" Neville was still pale and shaky, but he had rolled up his sleeves and was holding his wand aloft nonetheless. "On the count of three, Neville." Professor Lupin aimed his wand at the wardrobe door handle. "One—two—three—_now_!" Red sparks hit the doorknob and the wardrobe burst open. Professor Snape slunk out, looking even more menacing than usual.

Neville backed up slightly. Boggart Snape advanced on him, reaching into his robes. Chrys wondered if boggart Snape had a wand, and how exactly it worked if he did.

"_R-r-riddikulus!" _Neville managed to squeak out. The air around boggart Snape crackled—and suddenly he was wearing the very outfit Neville had described his grandmother in. The room was filled with laughter. The boggart froze.

"Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati stepped up, face determined. The boggart Snape turned on her. Another snap echoed through the room, and the boggart had changed form. The mummy, foul smelling and covered in flies, moved closer to Parvati.

"_Riddikulus!_" Parvati shouted. The mummy's bandages unraveled. It tripped, its head becoming dislodged and rolling forward.

"Seamus!" Professor Lupin urged.

Seamus moved in front of Parvati. The boggart shifted. Chrys recognized it from one of her mythology books. The green skinned, emaciated woman was a banshee. The banshee boggart opened her mouth and screamed. The shrill shriek sent shivers around the room. Several people covered their ears.

"_Riddikulus!_" Seamus said. The banshee croaked, clutching at her throat as she lost her voice. The boggart began shifting rapidly—a rat—a rattlesnake—a bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" Professor Lupin said happily. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean moved up. The boggart became a severed hand, scuttling towards him like a crab. "_Riddikulus!"_ The hand was caught in a mousetrap.

"Ron!" Professor Lupin called out. Ron leapt forward. Several people screamed as the boggart became an acromantula—a giant spider (Harry, Chrys and Ron were nearly eaten by a pack of these last year). Harry tensed as the spider advanced on Ron, clicking his pincers.

"Wait," Chrys told him quietly.

"_Riddikulus!"_ Ron shouted. The spider lost his legs. The giant hairy ball rolled towards Lavender—who squealed and ducked out of the way.

Harry was closest. He stepped forward with his wand up, but—

Professor Lupin suddenly jumped in front of him.

"Here!" The boggart turned into a silver sphere, floating above their hands. Chrys watched, confused as Professor Lupin waved his wand. "_Riddikulus!" _The sphere deflated like a punctured balloon and wilted on to the floor. "Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" Neville ran at the boggart, which promptly morphed back into Snape.

Snape's sneer was visible for a second before Neville shouted, "_Riddikulus!" _And the boggart Snape's outfit was once again changed. Neville let out a sharp laugh and the boggart exploded, wisps of smoke the only evidence it had ever been there in the first place.

"Excellent!" Professor Lupin told the class. "Excellent, Neville." Chrys smiled. "Well done, everyone… let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart—" Hermione frowned, probably disappointed she hadn't had a chance to earn points. "—ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," Harry reminded him, frustrated. Hermione lowered her head.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of class, Harry," Lupin told him. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

The students started trickling out of the staff room, chatting excitedly about the lesson.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" Ron agreed with the crowds chatter.

"I haven't seen Neville that happy in ages," Chrys thought.

"Yes, Professor Lupin seems like a very good teacher," Hermione said. "…but I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart—" Ron sniggered.

"What would it have been for you? A piece of homework that only got a nine out of ten?"

Chrys couldn't help but laugh as well. Hermione narrowed her eyes at them.

"Sorry, Hermione," Chrys said, swallowing her laughter. "Anyway, I'm sure we'll all have a chance to participate in the next lesson." She gave Harry, who was still sulking, a pointed look.


	8. Of Hogsmeade and Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this earlier, sorry!

They clapped loudly as they finished singing happy birthday to Hermione.

"So." Harry grinned at her. "How does it feel—being fourteen?"

Hermione shrugged. "No different." She reached for one of her textbooks. "Now, thank you very much for the celebration, but, if you'll excuse me, I have lots of work I need to—" Ron snatched the book away from her. "Ron!" Hermione groaned. "Give it back. I still have three more assignments—"

"Nope." Ron said, holding the book over her head. "We've barely just started the year, and the workload is already killing you. Give it a rest, Hermione. Have some cake."

Harry was cutting slices and handing them out.

Chrys held one under Hermione's nose. "It's chocolate."

Hermione hesitated and then took the plate. She took a bite.

"It's good… did you make it, Chrys?"

Harry snorted. "If she made that, you'd have keeled over already."

"Shut up." Chrys shoved him lightly. She looked at Hermione. "He's right, though." Ginny laughed. Harry looked at her.

Ginny flushed and shoved some cake into her mouth.

"Fred and George got the cake." Ron shrugged. "No idea where, or how."

Hermione and Ginny suddenly stopped eating.

"You're welcome!" George said brightly.

Hermione put her plate down. "I may have lost my appetite."

"Why?" Neville blinked. "Is there something wrong with the cake?"

"There better not be," Ginny said, eyeing Fred and George suspiciously.

"It's safe," Ron assured them, digging into his own slice. "I tested it on Chrys."

Hermione glanced worriedly at Chrys.

Chrys waved her hand.

"Don't worry, I didn't turn blue or squawk like a chicken or anything."

"Lovely idea, though," Fred said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Maybe next year."

Ron frowned. "Don't. No pranking Hermione on her birthday—any of her birthdays."

Fred raised an eyebrow at him. Hermione smiled slightly and went back to eating her cake.

Come Monday, the warm happy feeling had been drained out of them.

"One of these days…" Chrys growled under her breath. She glared at Snape, who had just made Neville start over his potion ten minutes before the end of class.

"It's fair play," Malfoy said. "For disrespecting a teacher…" No doubt Snape had heard about his boggart self—dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes. And while it was admittedly embarrassing, Chrys thought Snape should just suck it up. If he didn't want to be made into a boggart, he shouldn't have made himself into Neville's worst fear—simple as that.

"Oh, like you respect any of the teachers other than Snape," Chrys snapped.

"Well, look at Lupin. How am I supposed to respect someone who dresses like my old house elf?" Malfoy complained. Chrys frowned. Dobby, Malfoy's former house elf, had almost accidentally killed her and Harry several times last year—and even then he was a much kinder person than Malfoy and Snape combined.

Neville looked about ready to cry. Chrys gripped her knife.

"Don't," Hermione said tiredly, but firmly.

Lavender agreed with Hermione. She caught up to Chrys as they left class.

"You should really keep your head down," she suggested. "After what Professor Trelawney has said…" She exchanged a significant look with Parvati. Hermione rolled her eyes. Lavender and Parvati had been going up to visit Professor Trelawney during lunch breaks. Chrys wondered how much of their conversations consisted of people (namely herself) falling into misfortune.

"Trelawney could've been an admirable actress," Hermione said distastefully once the other girls were out of earshot. "What with the way she bursts into tears every time she sees you…"

"I think I'll make more of an effort not to die—just to spite her," Chrys said dryly.

"Well, that's one good thing that's come of it, then," Harry thought. "Still, Defense Against the Dark Arts is really the only good class lately."

"Oh—I think Ancient Runes is fascinating!" Hermione said brightly. She whirled on Chrys. "Don't you, Chrys?"

"Err… it's not bad."

Hermione sighed. Ron chuckled. "Anyway, out of the classes Harry and me are taking, DA's definitely at the top," he agreed.

"Harry and I," Hermione corrected absentmindedly.

"Hagrid tries," Chrys said defensively. Ron grimaced.

"It's like he lost all his confidence after the thing with Buckbeak and Malfoy," Harry thought. "Flobberworms have to be some of the most boring creatures in existence."

"Yeah…." Chrys couldn't argue with that.

"Yeah, who cares if they're in good health or not?" Ron thought.

"You should. Because that's what we're being graded on," Hermione reminded him.

Ron shrugged. "At least you'll have Quidditch soon," he told Harry.

Harry brightened considerably.

Chrys—who had a thing about heights, wasn't fond of the wizarding sport of flying about on broomsticks while hitting balls around, but she knew it was one of Harry's favorite things about Hogwarts.

He didn't even mind when Oliver Wood (the Gryffindor team captain) started up a training schedule three times a week.

"A healthy body helps a healthy mind—apparently," Ginny said. She stopped on the top of the hill she and Chrys were jogging up. Chrys bent over, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

In primary school she'd got her running in avoiding bullies, but recently she'd fallen out of practice.

"I don't know, Oliver Wood's never been the picture of mental health to me," Chrys said, glancing down the hill where Oliver was jogging backwards around the pitch, shouting encouraging things at the rest of the team. "And he's got some lungs on him."

"Yeah, and muscles the size of my head," Ginny noted appreciatively. Chrys nudged her and laughed. Ginny's lips twitched.

It was a start. Chrys was determined to see Ginny smile in the glowing sort of way she had before she'd been possessed by the memory of a young Voldemort last year.

While Chrys frequently fought with bouts of nightmares and insomnia, she hadn't expected to find Ginny curled up in the common room at three in the morning.

Looking back, it'd been short sighted of her. She couldn't expect Ginny to come out of last year unscathed.

So the two girls banded together to do something about it. Chrys finally took Madame Pomfrey's advice to get some exercise in, which should improve her constitution.

In some ways, it worked. Exhausted at the end of the day, Chrys had little time to think of nightmare causing things, such as Sirius Black killing Harry.

Unfortunately, as the month went by, her ankles were sinking into mud and the chilly air stabbed at her chest.

"By the way…" Ginny continued. "It's the first Hogsmeade trip this weekend. You'll have to tell me all about it." She looked a bit envious.

Chrys shook her head. "No can do. My uncle never signed the permission slip."

Ginny's eyes widened. "No! Why not?"

Chrys shrugged. "Anyway, hope Harry doesn't get all pouty about it again."

He did.

"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," Hermione said soothingly as the muddy twins collapsed onto their window seat. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," Ron figured. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages—"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished. "Harry's supposed to stay _in school_—"

"He and Chrys can't be the only third years left behind," Ron said. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry."

"Yeah, I think I will," Harry said determinedly. Hermione looked at Chrys as if to say 'talk some sense into him.' Chrys shrugged. She'd given up on that ages ago.

Hermione opened her mouth to try it for herself when Crookshanks suddenly leapt into her lap. Ron wrinkled his nose at the half of a dead spider hanging out of the cat's mouth.

"Does he have to eat that in front of us?"

Crookshanks crunched loudly in response.

"Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" Hermione cooed.

"Just keep him over there, that's all," Ron grumbled. He squinted at his astrology homework. "I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag."

Harry yawned. "You should go to bed," Chrys told him.

"Can't, haven't finished my star chart," he told her, rummaging in his bag for some parchment.

"You can copy mine, if you like," Ron said, labeling his last star and handing it over. Hermione gave him a disapproving look. Crookshanks did as well—and then pounced. "Oi! GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!" Ron tried to pull his bag away from the cat. Crookshanks hissed and slashed.

"Ron, don't hurt him!" Hermione squealed, not seeming to notice that Crookshanks was actually the one hurting Ron.

George and Ginny looked up from their conversation nearby. Half of the common room watched out of the corner of their eyes.

By now, Crookshanks had ripped Ron's bag to shreds. Chrys could hear Scabbers squeaking. The rat leapt from the bag's remains. Chrys lunged for Crookshanks. Crookshanks dodged her and streaked after Scabbers.

"CATCH THAT CAT!" Ron roared. George tried to block Crookshanks. The cat ran between his legs, batting under the couch for Scabbers. Then Ginny leaned over and quite calmly yanked Crookshanks up by the scruff of the neck.

"There now," Ginny said softly, ignoring the cat's hissing. She held him up to Hermione. Crookshanks calmed as Hermione took him into her arms. "You really ought to train him."

"Oh, well… yes, I suppose you're right," Hermione said, looking a touch guilty.

Ron fished Scabbers out from under the couch.

"Thanks, Gin," he said. Then he glared at Hermione. "Look at him! He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!"

"Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!" Hermione argued. "All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There's something funny about that animal!" Ron tried to stuff a disagreeable Scabbers into his pocket. He looked to Ginny for support.

Ginny shook her head. "I'm not getting in-between you two." She sighed. "I think that's enough excitement for one day. I'm going up to bed now." She nodded at Chrys. "Night, Chrys."

"Night, Ginny." Chrys watched her go and then turned back to the furious Ron and Hermione. Harry looked like he would very much like to do the same as Ginny.

"It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!" Ron continued.

"Oh, what rubbish. Crookshanks could _smell_ him, Ron, how else d'you think—"

"That cat's got it in for Scabbers!" Ron insisted, ignoring a group of giggling girls nearby. "And Scabbers was here first, _and_ he's ill!" And with that, he marched up to his dormitory.

The next morning, Ron practically ran down the hill towards the greenhouses to get ahead of Hermione. Chrys slipped and slid down beside him.

"I can't understand what she likes about that cat," he grumbled.

"Well, she was part cat once," Chrys reminded him of the accident with a polyjuice potion last year. "Maybe she can see something we can't." Ron's lips twitched slightly at the memory.

"It doesn't matter if she likes him or not," he decided. "She just needs to make a better effort to keep him away from Scabbers."

Ron tried to switch groups in Herbology, but they were supposed to work in the same teams as last class—so Harry was stuck between a brooding Ron and a tentative Hermione.

"Oh dear," Neville said, looking over Dean's shoulder as Ron knocked a bottle of shining beans over.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" Professor Sprout cried out as the beans sprouted to life on the greenhouse floor.

It only got worse as the day went on.

"What's a matter, Lavender?" Hermione asked. Lavender was crying in front of the Transfiguration classroom.

"Well…" Parvati wrapped an arm around her friend. "She's got a letter from home this morning. It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lavender," Hermione said politely. Seamus and Dean nodded grimly.

"I should have known!" Lavender whimpered. "You know what day it is?"

"Er…" For once, Hermione was at a loss for words.

"The thirteenth of October!" Lavender told her. "_That thing you're dreading it, will happen on the thirteenth of October_! Remember?"

"Professor Trelawney said that our first class," Chrys recalled. Parvati gasped. Seamus frowned, his brow furrowing.

"See? She was right, she was right!" Lavender looked both distraught and triumphant.

Hermione hesitated… "You—you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily a fox," Lavender said, tears streaming. "But I was _obviously_ dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

"Oh… was Binky an _old _rabbit?" Hermione wondered.

"N-No!" Lavender's voice cracked. "H-he was only a baby!" Parvati held Lavender tighter.

"But, then, why would you dread him dying?" Hermione continued. Parvati glared at her. "Well, look at it logically…" Chrys winced. Hermione looked around at the curious group of students that had gathered. "I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today—" Lavender started crying louder.

"Er, Hermione," Chrys tried. Hermione went on.

"—And she _can't_ have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock—"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," Ron cut her off. "She doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

At that moment Professor McGonagall opened the door and looked around at them suspiciously.

Hermione sat with a _humph!_ at her usual desk upfront, while Ron dragged Harry to a desk in the back. Harry and Chrys exchanged a grim look.

"Most people don't want to look at things logically when they're upset," Chrys tried to explain to Hermione. Hermione crossed her arms.

"If you understand things on a logical level, you'll be less emotional," Hermione figured. Chrys frowned.

"Is it logical for you to be so annoyed at Ron right now?"

"…Focus on your notes, Chrys," Hermione grunted as Professor McGonagall started the lesson.

The end of class came slowly.

"One moment please," Professor McGonagall said as people started packing up. "As you're all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville raised his hand. "Please, Professor, I—I think I've lost—"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," Professor McGonagall told him. "She seemed to think it was safer." Chrys smiled slightly. "Well, that's all, you may leave."

Hermione paused in the doorway when she saw Harry hanging back.

"Ooh, I don't think he should be asking Professor McGonagall to—"

"Oh, give it a rest," Ron said, passing them without another word.

Hermione frowned.

"I'll see you two in a minute," Chrys told her, jerking her head back at Harry, who was approaching Professor McGonagall's desk. Hermione sighed and moved into the hallway with Ron.

"Yes?" Professor McGonagall asked. Harry glanced at Chrys. She shrugged. He took a deep breath.

"Professor, our aunt and uncle—er—forgot to sign our forms," he lied. Professor McGonagall looked at him over the rim of her glasses. Chrys wondered if she had a built in lie detector. "So—er—d'you think it would be alright—I mean, will it be okay if we…"

"We wanted to know if you'd give us permission to go into Hogsmeade," Chrys finished for him.

"I'm afraid not," Professor McGonagall said, gathering up some papers from her desk. Harry wilted. "You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But—Professor, our aunt and uncle—you know, they're muggles, they don't really understand about—about Hogwarts forms and stuff," Harry tried again.

"You're our head of House, if you said we could go—" Chrys continued.

"But I don't say you could go," Professor McGonagall cut her off. She tucked her papers away into a drawer. "The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission." She looked at them, an odd expression on her face. "I'm sorry, both of you, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson."

"Right…" Chrys tugged on Harry's sleeve.

Ron called Professor McGonagall names. Hermione glared.

"That isn't very nice, Ron," Chrys said tiredly.

"Yeah, well—she isn't being very nice!" Ron grumbled.

"It's not like Professor McGonagall's ever been one to make exceptions," Chrys pointed out. She turned to Harry. "We tried, that's all we can do." Hermione nodded smugly. Ron growled. Harry sighed.

Ron softened. "There's always the feast," Ron said encouragingly. "You know, the Halloween feast is coming up."

"Looking forward to this Hogsmeade trip?" Dean asked during dinner, unknowingly rubbing salt on the wound. Harry groaned and nearly face-planted in his mash potatoes.

"We can't go, no permission slips," Chrys explained. "Our uncle didn't sign."

Dean grimaced.

"Tough luck—I could try and forge your uncle's signature if you like."

Chrys titled her head. Dean was good with a quill.

"No good, we've already told Professor McGonagall we hadn't got it signed," Harry reminded her.

"What about the invisibility cloak?" Ron suggested under his breath.

"Don't you remember Professor Dumbledore's start of the year feast?" Hermione whispered back. "Dementors can see through invisibility cloaks."

"Oh… yeah…" Ron frowned.

By breakfast Halloween morning, most of the castle seemed to know the Potter twins couldn't go to Hogsmeade.

"They make a fuss, but I assure you, it's not all it's cracked up to be," Percy said in an attempt to be helpful. "Alright, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really—"

"Just stop talking, Percy," Chrys told him.

"We'll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," Hermione said as she fastened her cloak.

"Yeah loads," Ron said eagerly. He and Hermione had put aside their differences in light of Harry's gloom.

"Don't worry about us," Harry said, mock casually. "We'll see you at the feast."

"Yeah, come on, we'll walk you to the gate," Chrys said.

Filch was checking names off a list at the front door.

"Staying here, Potter?" Malfoy called out. "Scared of passing the dementors?"

"Just make sure you don't piss yourself this time, Malfoy!" Chrys called back. Malfoy's cheeks went a blotchy pink. Harry laughed loudly, though his heart didn't really seem in it.

"Have a good time," he said to Ron and Hermione, waving them off.

They waited until the crowd started to disipate.

"Back to the common room, then?" Chrys suggested.

The corridors were empty. The common room was filled with chattering first and second years, and a couple of older students who'd visited Hogsmeade enough times to not care so much.

"Chrys! Harry! Hi!" Colin Creevy, a second year and big fan of the Potter twins, nearly bounced over to them.

"Hey, Colin," Chrys said. "What are you up to?"

"Gobstone club!" Colin told her. Harry and Chrys eyed the board, covered in slime from the exploding gobstones. "Why aren't you two going to Hogsmeade? Want to join us?"

"Er, no thanks, Colin," Harry and Chrys said in unison.

"We've got to, um…" Harry flattened his hair over his scar. Some of the Gryffindors were staring.

"Study!" Chrys lied.

"Yes, we're going to the library, to get some work done," Harry finished. He made an about face and climbed out of the portrait hole.

"Do make up your mind," the portrait of the Fat Lady grumbled.

"Do you actually want to study?" Chrys asked as they walked towards the library. "I do have some Ancient Runes reading to catch up on…" She remembered guiltily she'd promised Hermione to keep on track with that.

"Well… not really," Harry admitted. "Let's find something else to do." He turned around again.

"Uh-oh," Chrys said.

Filch the caretaker was limping towards them, scowling.

"What are you doing?" He asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Harry said, actually truthful.

"Nothing!" Filch spat. Chrys wiped some spittle off her face. "A likely story! Sneaking around on your own—why aren't you two in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your friends?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, we'll keep that in mind for next time," Chrys said brightly.

Filch growled. "Get back to your common room where you belong!"

Chrys dragged Harry off.

"No way am I going back there yet," Harry said, once they were out of earshot. "I am not playing Gobstones with Colin… no offense." He had less patience for Colin than Chrys did. She smiled vaguely. "How about we go up to the owlery, visit Hedwig?"

She nodded. "Sounds lovely…"

Then a door open and Professor Lupin stuck his head out.

"Harry, Chrys—what are you doing?" He sounded more curious than suspicious like Filch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade," Harry said dully.

"Ah…" Lupin looked over them. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken a delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" Harry and Chrys asked. Lupin beckoned them inside. Chrys followed excitedly.

The grindylow was in a tank of water in the corner of the room. He pressed up against the glass, making faces at them as they approached.

Chrys giggled. "Cheeky, huh?"

"Well, he would be, he's a water demon," Lupin told her.

"Like the kappas?" Chrys wondered, remembering the turtle like creatures from a couple of classes ago. Lupin grinned and nodded.

"Shouldn't have much trouble with the grindylows, after dealing with the kappas." One of the kappas had gripped onto Neville's robes with his strong jaw and tried to pull him into the pool of water Lupin had magicked up for him. Harry had quickly set up sparks like Lupin had taught them, temporarily blinding the kappa and getting full points. "The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

Chrys stood on tiptoe to get a better look. "Yeah…"

As if understanding what Lupin had said, the grindylow bared its fangs and sunk back behind some swaying reeds.

"Cup of tea?" Lupin offered, grabbing a kettle. "I was just thinking of making some."

"Alright," Harry said awkwardly.

"Sit down." Lupin gestured at some chairs in front of his desk. The twins sat. The chairs were worn, but comfortably so. Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand. Steam burst out the spout.

"Hermione says nonverbal magic is really advanced," Chrys remembered thoughtfully.

"Oh, well…" Lupin rubbed the back of his neck. "Small things aren't so hard to do. Especially at my age…" He reached for a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid—but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?" He looked at her, his eyes twinkling.

"Hmm," Chrys said. Harry frowned at him.

"How did you know about that?" He wondered.

"Professor McGonagall told me." Lupin handed them each a mug of tea. "You're not worried, are you?"

"I don't like people predicting my sister's death," Harry said shortly.

"Yeah, I'm not fussed." Chrys waved her hand. Harry frowned at her. She looked away, smoothing her thumb over a chip on the rim of her mug. She could still see him, frowning thoughtfully, out of the corner of her eye.

Lupin noticed too. "Anything else worrying you, Harry?"

"No," Harry lied. He took a sip of his tea, and watched the grindylow brandish his fist at them. "Yes," he admitted. He put his tea down. "You know that day we fought the boggart?"

"Yes…" Lupin said slowly.

"Why didn't you let us fight it?"

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I would've thought that was obvious, Harry."

"Why?" Harry pressed.

"Voldemort," Chrys figured. Harry looked at Lupin, who didn't wince or splutter as people usually did upon hearing the name.

He merely nodded. "I assumed that if the boggart faced one of you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort…" Lupin examined their expressions. He frowned. "Clearly, I was wrong… but I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."

"Probably, he hasn't got the prettiest face," Chrys said lightly. Lupin nearly smiled.

"I didn't think of Voldemort," Harry told him. "I—I remembered the dementors." Harry looked down at his feet.

"I see." Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "Well, well… I'm impressed." Harry looked up suddenly, surprised. Lupin smiled in full this time. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry."

"Good for you, oh wise one." Chrys grinned and elbowed Harry's side. Harry tried not to spill his tea. He still wouldn't meet Lupin's gaze.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?" Lupin reasoned.

"He lacks self-confidence," Chrys told him.

"Chrys…" Harry gave her a sharp look. He took a breath. "Professor Lupin, you know the dementors—"

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Lupin called. Snape steeped inside. He and Harry frowned at each other, over the smoking goblet Snape was holding. Snape put the goblet down on Professor Lupin's desk.

"I was just showing Harry and Chrys my grindylow," Lupin said conversationally. He pointed at the tank.

"Fascinating." Snape didn't spare it a glance. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."

"Yes, yes, I will."

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape went on. "If you need more."

"I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all." He gave Harry one last suspicious glance before leaving.

Chrys sniffed. The potion had a vaguely familiar floral scent, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," Professor Lupin told them, clearly sensing their curiosity. Chrys frowned. She had never known Snape to do anything out of kindness. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer, and this one is particularly complex." He picked up the goblet. "Pity sugar makes it useless." He took a sip and shuddered.

"Why…" Harry's curiosity was not easily abated.

"I've been feeling a bit off-color," Professor Lupin said. Chrys frowned. She had thought he'd looked a bit more solid since that first night on the train… but it was true, he was looking pale again. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape. There aren't many wizards who are up to making it." He took another sip. Harry eyed the goblet, like he'd like very much to knock it out of Professor Lupin's hands.

"Professor Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts," he said suddenly.

"Really?" Lupin didn't look too interested.

"Some people reckon…. Some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

Chrys could see where Harry was going with this, but thought it unlikely Snape would poison another teacher right under Dumbledore's nose. And besides, Lupin looked a bit too clever to fall for something like that. Lupin finished his drink, made a face and stood up.

"Disgusting," he pronounced. "Well, Harry, Chrys, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you at the feast later."

"Right." Harry was still eyeing the smoking goblet.

In the common room, Ron and Hermione showered the twins in sweets.

"Wow…" Chrys admired the brightly colored wrappers. "This is great."

"Thanks," Harry said earnestly. He picked up a packet labeled Pepper Imps. "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?"

Flushed from the cold wind and excitement, Ron and Hermione recounted their trip.

It was funny to see what each of them focused on more. Hermione gave them a lecture on the two hundred color coded (depending on speed) owls at the post office, and the ogre they may have seen in the Three Broomsticks. Ron lovingly described about Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks (where they served something called butterbeer). 

"What did you do?" Hermione asked as Ron paused to catch his breath. "Did you get any work done?"

"No," Chrys said honestly, munching on a pumpkin pasty.

"Lupin made us some tea in his office, and then Snape came in…" Harry frowned thoughtfully.

"Lupin's been feeling a bit off lately, so Snape's been making him this gross tasting potion—" Chrys started.

"—Goblets full, and it was smoking," Harry continued.

"And he drank it?" Ron said, aghast. "Is he mad?"

"Harry had about the same reaction," Chrys told him.

Harry and Ron shared a grim look.

"Well, yeah," Ron said. "It's Snape."

Hermione checked her watch.

"We'd better go down. You know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes…" They climbed out of the portrait hole. "But if Snape did, you know… if he _was_ trying to… to poison Lupin… he wouldn't have done it in front of Chrys and Harry," she reasoned in a quiet voice. Harry glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

"Maybe…"

Having missed the Halloween Feast last year, in favor of the House ghost, Nick's deathday party—Chrys dug into the food with almost enough gusto to match Ron. However, while he maintained a steady focus on his plate, she kept glancing up at the decorations. Hundreds of glowing jack-o-lanterns floated above them in place of the usual candles. Orange and black streamers were hung on the walls.

Meanwhile, Harry kept looking up at the staff table. He stared at Lupin, as if worried the man would collapse at any moment.

"Give it a rest," Chrys suggested.

She was full and sleepy by the end of the feast. Neither Harry's mood, nor Malfoy shouting, "The dementors send their love, Potter!" deterred her from marching upstairs to the common room.

However, when they got to the Fat Lady, there was a crowd gathered in front.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron wondered. Harry tried to crane his neck to see.

"Let me through, please," Percy called out, trying to part the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't have all forgotten the password—" Chrys sniggered. "—Excuse me, I'm Head Boy—" Percy cut off suddenly. He grabbed some parchment from his bag and scribbled out a note before doing a familiar spell that folded the paper into a bird like shape, which took off at full speed.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, coming up behind them. Ron shrugged.

A moment later, Dumbledore appeared. This time, the crowd parted without protest. Harry and Chrys inched forward after him.

"Oh, my…" Hermione gripped Chrys' arm.

The Fat Lady was gone from her portrait, which wasn't unusual for wizarding paintings, except she was usually quite responsible about keeping her hours as guard of the Gryffindor Tower. However, she seemed to have a good reason to have left. Her portrait was slashed into strips, like an animal with large claws had attacked.

Professors McGonagall, Lupin and Snape hurried forward.

"We need to find her," Dumbledore told them seriously. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"Good luck with that!" A voice squealed. It was Peeves the Poltergeist. Chrys frowned. Now wasn't the time for his pranks or perpetual mischievous grin.

"What do you mean, Peeves?"

Even Peeves couldn't deny Dumbledore's tone, all business.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir," Peeves simpered. "Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful." He sounded delighted. Dumbledore frowned. "Poor thing," Peeves added, trying to sound sympathetic, with little success.

"Did she say who did it?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," Peeves continued dramatically. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." He did a summersault in midair and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Chrys grabbed onto Harry with one hand, the other going to grip her wand inside of her pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed there's a lot of shrugging in this chapter. No idea what to do about it, but, it's there. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. Of Tiredness and Thunder

The Gryffindor students were sent down to the Great Hall. Shortly after, the students from the other houses joined them.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Dumbledore explained. Professor McGonagall and Flitwick looked both ways before closing the doors. Chrys was suddenly reminded of the escorts and early curfews from last year, when the students had been under threat of Slytherin's monster. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall, and I'm leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge." Percy puffed out his chest. "Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts." Dumbledore paused. "Oh, yes, you'll be needing…" He waved his wand and the house tables pushed back against the walls. With another wave, the floor was covered in squishy purple sleepy bags. "Sleep well…" Dumbledore shut the door behind him.

Conversation buzzed up immediately.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" Percy snapped. "Come on, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes." Chrys glanced over to make sure Ron and Hermione were keeping a firm eye on Harry. Ron gave her a slight nod. Chrys moved over to Percy.

"Yes, Chrysanthemum?"

"Just… be careful," she told him seriously. Percy's gaze softened somewhat.

"Of course."

"I've got his back," Penelope Clearwater, the Head Girl and Percy's girlfriend told her, twirling her wand. Percy's ears turned pink. Chrys smiled.

She joined the other three, who had dragged some sleeping bags into an out of the way corner. "Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione wondered.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," Ron figured. Chrys nodded.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight," Hermione thought. "You know, the one night we weren't in the tower…"

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," Ron said. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here." Hermione shivered.

"Maybe…" Chrys said slowly. "…But if he managed to get past the dementors again, that makes me think he isn't as mad as reported. I mean, once could be a fluke, but twice…" Hermione frowned.

"Sometimes madness is the very thing to make the impossible, possible."

"The real question is…" Harry glanced around. "_How did he get in?" _Everyone was asking each other this.

"Maybe he knows how to apparate," a nearby Ravenclaw thought. "Just appear out of thin air you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," an older Hufflepuff put in.

"He could've flown in," Dean suggested.

"Honestly, am I the _only _person who's ever bothered to read _Hogwarts, A History_?" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.

"Probably," Ron said.

"Harry read it once, in first year," Chrys recalled.

Harry nodded. "That's where I got Hedwig's name…"

"What's your point, Hermione?" Ron pressed.

"The castle's protected by more than _walls_, you know. There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just apparate in here," she explained. Chrys nodded.

"And I doubt a disguise would fool the dementors."

Harry shuddered. "Right." Hermione pursed her lips. "And they're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered—"

"The lights are going out now!" Percy announced. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags, and no more talking!"

The candles that floated above them snuffed out.

But the room wasn't completely dark.

The ceiling was enchanted to match the sky outside. It was a clear night, rare for this time of year. The stars shone clearly—pinpricks of light punching through the inky blue.

The ghosts glowed silver as they drifted in and out of the room. They spoke in hushed tones with the prefects who guarded the doors in shifts.

Percy and Penny walked the length of the room, holding their lit wands aloft. Percy checked several times on Ginny, who was sandwiched between Fred and George.

Chrys turned onto her side to watch Harry. Like her, he'd kept his glasses on. His lens reflected the stars twinkling above them. Chrys clutched her wand.

She wondered if she knew any spells that could possibly defend against someone like Sirius Black.

Harry turned and smiled hesitantly at her. Then the doors opened and they quickly shut their eyes. Chrys heard footsteps approach them.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy whispered.

"No," Dumbledore said shortly. "All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

The door creaked open again. "Headmaster?" It was Snape. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons. Nothing there either."

"What about the astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched…"

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as how he got in, Professor?" Snape asked.

Chrys heard Harry shuffle in his sleeping bag.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before, ah, the start of term?" Snape sounded frustrated.

"I do, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly.

"It seems—almost impossible—that Black could have entered the school without inside help," Snape plowed on. "I did express my concerns when you appointed—"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped black enter it," Dumbledore said firmly. "I must go down to the dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy wondered.

"Oh, yes, but I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I'm Headmaster." Any usual merriment or enigma was gone from Dumbledore's voice.

Chrys held her breath, waiting for the footsteps to fade.

Then she opened her eyes. On the other side of Harry, Ron propped his head up on his arm. "What was all that about?" Ron whispered.

The next couple of days, e_veryone _had a theory about how Black had gotten in. And like Dumbledore, each of their theories was less likely than the last.

Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflpuff discussed it as they walked into Herbology.

"I bet he can turn into a flowering shrub," Hannah thought, eyeing the plants in the greenhouse. "That's how the dementors didn't see him." Seamus shook his head as he, Dean, Neville and Chrys settled down at their table.

"Hannah, flowering shrubs can't move," Ernie reasoned.

"You know… a lot of wizarding plants do move," Neville said thoughtfully. Hannah turned and smiled at him. He flushed slightly. "Um, but, I don't think they'd get very far. The castle floors are too thick for their roots to reach the soil." Hannah pouted. "Sorry," Neville squeaked. Chrys and Dean exchanged a look and tried not to laugh.

Percy was waiting for Chrys and Harry when they got out of Herbology. He exchanged a nod with Professor Sprout, and started walking up to the castle with them. Chrys and Harry looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

Percy had been keeping a close eye on them ever since Halloween. Harry suspected this was on Mrs. Weasley's orders.

"Hey, Percy," Seamus said, following them. "Is Cadogan still guarding the tower?" Percy nodded. Seamus groaned. Chrys patted him on the shoulder. She still had a grudge against Sir Cadogan for leading them the long way around to their first Divination lesson. "He's a complete lunatic—can't we get somebody else?"

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," Percy admitted. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

"Even as a Gryffindor, I know the difference between being brave and just plain stupid," Chrys thought. Seamus shook his head.

"Like I said, complete lunatic." He sped up to catch up with Dean.

"Sir Cadogan is the least of my worries," Harry muttered under his breath.

Chrys grimaced.

"Come along, Harry, Chrysanthemum," Percy said as they entered the castle. He put his hands on their shoulders and shepherded them down the hall. "No point standing around." Chrys made a face behind his back. Harry's lips twitched. He straightened up as Professor McGonagall moved towards them.

"I can take it from here, Mr. Weasley," she said stiffly. "I want a word with Mr. and Miss Potter."

"Of course, Professor." Percy nodded and set off again. Professor McGonagall glanced up and down the hall and then beckoned them forward.

Professor McGonagall's expression was even serious than usual when they reached her office. "There's no point in hiding it from you any longer. I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black—"

"We know," Harry and Chrys said tiredly. She raised an eyebrow at them.

"We know he's after us," Harry elaborated. "I heard Ron's dad telling his mum. Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic."

Professor McGonagall blinked.

"…I see!" She said. "Well, in that case, Mr. Potter, you'll understand why I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings." Harry gaped. "Out on the field with only your team members, it's very exposed…" Chrys nodded thoughtfully. "And Miss Potter, I hear you and Miss Weasley have been going for jogs on the grounds… perhaps it would be better if you took a break from that."

Chrys frowned. "We've got our first match on Saturday!" Harry protested. "I've got to train, Professor!" Professor McGonagall studied him for a moment. Chrys knew that Professor McGonagall was nearly as determined as Oliver Wood to finally win the inter-House tournament this year.

"Hmmm…" Professor McGonagall said. Harry held his breath. "Well… goodness knows, I'd like to see us win the Cup at last… but all the same, Potter… I'd be happier if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions."

"What about me?" Chrys asked. "Ginny and I have been jogging for our health… we thought it might help, you know, after everything she went through last year." Professor McGonagall stiffened.

"Indeed… well, if you and Miss Weasley take care to run around the Quidditch field, where everyone else is, I suppose that would be acceptable."

"Thanks, Professor!" Chrys and Harry beamed identically.

By next week, Chrys nearly wished Professor McGonagall had kept them in the castle. Ginny was knocked over by a particularly strong gust of wind.

Chrys pulled her up. "Maybe we should turn in early," she suggested, brushing Ginny's muddy hair away from her face.

"They haven't turned in early," Ginny said, gesturing at the Gryffindor team.

"Yeah, well, they've got a match coming up, and Oliver Wood is mad."

Wood got even worse when Madam Hooch told them the match schedule had been changed. Gryffindor was facing Hufflepuff in the first match, rather than Slytherin. Wood had been training specifically for going against Slytherin—but Malfoy insisted his arm was still too injured to play.

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!" Malfoy said dramatically, the day before the match. He grinned at the rain and wind slamming at the windows.

Wood had taken to following Harry around between classes, trying to cram facts about the Hufflepuff team into his head.

"Come on, he'll catch up later," Ron told Chrys, tired of waiting for Harry to escape.

Chrys looked around. "Yeah, let's go before Hermione beats us there." As she had many times this year, Hermione had disappeared when they weren't looking. Ron groaned. "Hey, cheer up, it's Defense next."

"Oh, yeah." Ron smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Wonder what Professor Lupin has planed for today?"

"I don't know, maybe—" Chrys stopped suddenly. She was frozen in the classroom doorway, staring at a sneering Snape.

"Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley, come in," Snape said. "You are very nearly late. Sit down before I take points."

"Um… yes, Professor," Chrys said warily. She went and sat next to Hermione, who was studying Snape with a frown on her face.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione whispered.

"Caught up with Wood," Chrys whispered back. "What's with Snape? Where's Lupin?" Hermione pursed her lips.

"Professor Snape hasn't said."

"Now if you will all take out your textbooks," Snape said. Seamus grumbled. The lessons had been more hands on in this class, which was just what some of them needed. "Yes, Mr. Finnegan?" Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing, sir," Seamus grunted.

"It's a shame," Snape continued. "Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far." Hermione raised her hand. Snape ignored her. "As such, today we will be—"

Just then, Harry entered the room.

He and Snape stared at each other.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Harry said after a moment.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today." Snape's mouth twisted into what might be considered a smile. "Now, this lesson began five minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it five points from Gryffindor." Parvati frowned. "Sit down, Potter."

Harry didn't move. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing life-threatening," Snape said shortly. "I believe I told you to sit down." Harry still didn't move. "Five points more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty." Hermione and Parvati gave Harry imploring looks. Harry walked slowly and sat down next to Ron. "As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," Hermione said in a rush. "And we're just about to start—"

"Be quiet," Snape said coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commentating on Professor Lupin's lack of organization." Chrys crossed her arms over her chest and squinted her eyes at him.

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean called out. Chrys shot a grin at him. Several other students murmured in agreement.

"You are easily satisfied," Snape said. "Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss…" Snape flipped to the end of the textbook. "…Werewolves."

Hermione tried, and failed to restrain herself.

"But, sir—we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're do to start hinkypunks—"

"Miss Granger," Snape said. "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He looked around the room. "All of you! _Now!"_ The students shared sour looks and grumbled under their breaths, but did as he said. "Which one of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Of course, Hermione raised her hand. However, as Chrys had a habit of looking up common muggle 'supernatural' elements and seeing how real they were in the wizarding world, she raised her hand as well. Snape ignored them both. "Anyone?" He smirked. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"

"Hermione told you," Parvati said. "We haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"

"_Silence_!" Snape snarled. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…"

"When they aren't transformed, werewolves are basically just people—right?" Chrys said loudly. "And it's not as if any of us are going to waltz through the Forbidden Forest on a full moon, looking for differences between werewolves and regular wolves."

"That is not the point," Snape said. "It is important to know the differences because—"

"Please, sir," Hermione said. Her hand had been hanging in the air for some time. "The werewolf differences from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"

"If everyone would stop speaking out of turn," Snape hissed. "Miss Granger, five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione flushed and sunk into her chair. Tears filled her eyes. Chrys growled. She and Ron leapt to their feet.

"What kind of teacher are you?" Chrys snapped. "Talking to student like that…" The rest of the room nodded and glared at Snape. It was one thing for her fellow classmates to call Hermione a know-it-all (as they frequently did), but a teacher…

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer!" Ron shouted. "Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The room fell into a hush as Snape walked forward, pausing in-between Chrys and Ron's desks. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Potter—detention. And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Ron and Chrys looked at each other, and then at Hermione, who was crying even harder now, albeit quietly. They sat back down.

The students were completely silent for the rest of class.

Snape was talking to himself at Lupin's desk, criticizing the papers they had turned in last class.

"Very poorly explained… this is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia… Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three."

Chrys was ready to bolt when the bell rang, but Snape held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, Potter, stay behind we need to arrange your detentions."

"D'you know what that fuc—"

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply.

"— is making me do?" Ron grumbled as they met up with Hermione and Harry in the hallway. "I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. _Without magic!"_ He clenched his fists and panted slightly. Then he waved at Chrys. "And she's got it even worse."

Harry and Hermione looked concernedly at her.

"I'm supposed to help prep ingredients for a quiz for one of Snape's first year classes," Chrys said dully. Hermione frowned.

"I bet he's hoping you'll snap and he'll give you another detention," Harry said thoughtfully. "Chrys—try not to give him the satisfaction."

"Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say."

"Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh?" Ron continued. "He could have finished him off for us!" Chrys wondered if anyone, even Snape, deserved something like that.

She continued thinking about Snape, and Black, all throughout the night. At some point she gave up the fight against sleeplessness and headed downstairs, moving to sit at her favorite window seat to wait for the sun rise. Well before the day came, Chrys heard a hiss and looked up to see Crookshanks racing down the stairs to the boys' dormitory, closely followed by an annoyed Harry.

"I reckon Ron's right," Harry said, eyeing Crookshanks who settled on his haunches to stare back at him. "That cat has got it out for Scabbers." Harry was fully dressed, and running his fingers through his hair as he yawned.

"Hmmm…" Chrys glanced at the old clock on the wall. It was around 4:30 in the morning. She closed her Egypt book and looked up at him. "What's got you up?" Harry gave her a pointed look. "Oh… pre-match nerves?"

"That, and Peeves came into the room to blow in my ear."

Her nose crinkled as Harry slumped down next to her.

"Gross, why?"

Harry shrugged. "Why does Peeves do anything? Thought it'd be a laugh, I suppose." He stared out the window. The storm was rattling the windowpanes.

"What're the chances of the match being canceled?" Chrys said hopefully.

Harry snorted. "Zero to none. Quidditch matches aren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms." He yawned and leaned back into the couch. "What do you think of that Cedric Diggory bloke?" His tone was casual, but his expression was still anxious.

Cedric Diggory was the Hufflepuff seeker. He was the one Wood was the most worried about. Wood had pointed Diggory out in the hall to Harry, who in turn pointed him out to Chrys.

"He's kind of good looking," Chrys thought. Diggory was tall and muscular, and had a friendly sort of face. Harry made a different sort of face.

"I doubt his looks have anything to do with his Quidditch ability."

"Then ask somebody who cares about Quidditch," Chrys said pointedly. Harry stood up and shooed Crookshanks (who had been trying to sneak by) away from the staircase again. Chrys stood up too, grabbing the cat and trying to settle him down into her lap. "At least try and get some sleep," she suggested to Harry.

He grimaced. "Says you." But he did sit down again.

Harry had nodded off a couple of times, but sleep kept slipping away.

Chrys looked at the clock again. "It's almost time for breakfast… why don't we head down early?" She suggested. Harry made a noncomittal noise. "Great. Let me just pop up and get dressed…"

Chrys managed to tiptoe up and downstairs quietly enough to not wake the rest of her dormmates.

Sir Cadogan jolted awake as they climbed out of the portrait hole.

"Stand and fight, you mangy cur!" He cried out, still half asleep.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said tiredly.

They grabbed some toast (which Chrys had to bully Harry into taking a few bites of) in the hall and then headed outside.

The wind roared. They had to fight their way to the pitch. Chrys' hair whipped around. Her ponytail kept smacking her in the face.

It was a little better in the stands as they filled, with the packed bodies blocking some of the wind.

Still, Chrys could barely hear Madam Hooch's whistle as the players took off into the air. "What's going on?" Chrys asked. She tried to wipe her glasses on her soaked through robes. "I can't see a thing!"

"Oh, give them here," Hermione said, snatching up her glasses. "_Impervius_!"

"What does that do?" Chrys put the glasses back on. They now repelled water. Chrys smiled at Hermione. "Thanks—that's great!"

"Meanwhile, Harry's still getting blown about the pitch, and is probably as blind as a bat," Ron sighed. There was a flash of lightning. Chrys jumped, gripping Hermione's arm. Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

The players landed on the muddy field for a time out.

"You know…" Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. "Give me a minute." She ran down to the bottom ring of the stands. Chrys and Ron saw her stretch out over the barrier, saying something to Harry. She waved her wand and then he flew back up again. "I've cast the same spell on Harry's glasses," Hermione said breathlessly as she rejoined them.

"Brilliant!" Ron said brightly.

As the match started up again, Ron started up his ongoing commentary again.

"Diggory's seen the snitch!" He called out. "Oh, no." He groaned. "Harry's on the other side of the pitch."

"There he goes," Hermione said, as Harry sped after Diggory.

Suddenly, Chrys swayed.

"Oh!" Her breath came out in a cloud as the chill surrounded them.

"What the—" Ron said, looking around wildly. Hermione had gone grey and was speaking quickly, but Chrys couldn't make out the words.

The world seemed to have been put on mute as ice ran through her veins. She recognized the feeling, and wasn't surprised to see the large crowd of dementors gliding over the pitch. Harry, flying low to try and reach the snitch, was right above them. Chrys groaned. Again, Harry was in danger, and she couldn't do anything about it. She felt hopeless.

Chrys tried to stand up, but felt frozen to the bench. Her vision blurred.

"_Not Harry, not Chrys, please not my babies!" _A woman was shrieking.

"_Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…"_ The cold voice was familiar to Chrys. Voldemort. Voldemort was about to kill…

"_Not my babies! Please… have mercy… have mercy…" _The woman's voice grew fainter.

"No…" Chrys reached out. "Mum…" The cold laughter that had haunted her dreams for as long as she remembered filled her ears, overwhelming everything else.

"_Enervate_!" A familiar voice squeaked out. Her eyes flickered open. Professor Flitwick (the Charms professor and head of Ravenclaw house) was staring down worriedly at her. "Miss Potter—how are you feeling?"

"I…" She didn't know really. Her head was still swimming, and got worse as she tried to sit up.

"Slowly, slowly," Professor Sinistra told her. Chrys stared. The stars on Professor Sinistra's hat twinkled down at her.

"Oh, Chrys…" Hermione let out a breath. Chrys looked around. The stands were nearly empty. Only a few professors remained.

"Miss Granger, if you would help Miss Potter up to the hospital wing, I believe Professor Flitwick and I should speak to the Headmaster."

"Yes, Aurora, I do believe you're right," Flitwick said grimly.

"What happened?" Chrys said as Hermione supported her.

"Well…" Hermione paused at the top of the hill to catch her breath. "I'm not sure precisely when you passed out. What's the last thing you remember?"

Chrys frowned. "The dementors came onto the pitch…"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Well… shortly after that… Harry kind of… well..." She took a deep breath and finished in a rush. "He-fell-off-his-broom."

"What!"

"Ah—Professor Dumbledore caught him, slowed him down with some sort of spell!" Hermione told her quickly. "And then, he magicked him onto a stretcher and levitated him to the castle. The whole Gryffindor team followed. Chrys, you had fainted… Ron carried you down to the teachers' booth, and then he went to find out what happened to Harry."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" Chrys said sharply.

"Are you sure you're alright to start moving again?" Hermione said worriedly. Chrys glared at her.

Chrys tried to fight her way through the crowd in the hospital wing.

"Oi!" George said, spotting her. "Out of the way, you lot!"

"It's Chrys, let her through!" Fred said, taking her by the shoulders and leading her to the front of the group.

Harry was lying in the bed, his face tinged grey. The whole room let out a breath of relief as his eyes flickered open.

"Chrys?" He said confusedly. He blinked. "Why're you crying?" Chrys sniffled.

"How're you feeling, Harry?" Fred asked, gripping her shoulders tighter.

Harry frowned.

"What happened?" He said, looking around at everyone who had gathered.

"You fell off," Fred said bluntly. "Must have been—what—fifty feet?" Chrys whimpered. George gave Fred a sharp looked. Fred grimaced.

"We thought you'd died," Alicia Spinet, one of the chasers on Harry's team, said shakily. Hermione squeaked. Her eyes were rimed in red.

"But the match," Harry pressed. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

"Are you serious?" Chrys snapped. "That's what you're worried about?" She brushed Fred off. "I'm going to find Madam Pomfrey!" She stomped away.

Madam Pomfrey wasted what Chrys thought was valuable time fussing over her. "Harry's the one who needs to be looked over," Chrys grumbled, munching on the piece of chocolate. "Sure, I collapsed—but he was fifty feet up!"

"I've checked his vitals already," Madam Pomfrey said. "Anyway, it doesn't look like you're against the chocolate." She looked pointedly at Chrys' empty hands. Chrys rubbed the back of her neck.


	10. Of Sweets and Secrets

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping the twins in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend.

Sunday morning wasn't so bad. Hermione and Ron brought some good news.

"I've been doing some research, and I think I've finally found a way to defend against dementors," she told them. "You know, like Professors Dumbledore and Lupin have done."

"Brilliant," Chrys said.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Hermione pulled a book out of her bag. _N.E.W.T Defense Against the Dark Arts_.

"I wasn't finding anything, so I thought we'd look in the restricted section," she continued.

Chrys smirked. "That always seems to happen. How'd you get in this time?"

"It's so simple. I can't believe I hadn't thought of it. Ron got Hagrid to write a note." Hermione looked a bit annoyed, but shot Ron a grin nonetheless. Ron's ears turned pink. Hermione turned to a page displaying an eerily realistic drawing of a dementor. Harry grimaced. Hermione cleared her throat. "_The dementor is a dark magical creature, currently employed by the Ministry of Magic to guard Azkaban Prison. Dementors feed on happiness, leaving behind only despair. This weakens the magical energy of any person nearby. As such, the only known spell to defend against dementors is all the more difficult to cast."_ Hermione chewed at her lip. "I suppose that's why the book was in the restricted section. Creatures with Dark Magic aren't normally part of the school curriculum. Apparently, parents have complained that the information is too disturbing for their children to hear—and besides which, the defense magic is so advanced, not many students would want to take on the workload."

"Fantastic," Ron said dryly. "Bet you wouldn't have any problem with it anyway." Hermione blinked at him. "What?"

"Read on," Harry prompted her.

"Right." She cleared her throat again. "_The Patronus Charm is evoked by the incantation: _Expecto Patronum_. The effect is a partially tangible magical shield against dementors._" Hermione looked up from the book. "Chrys, I wonder if it's possible that the light that came out of your wand on the train…"

Chrys shook her head.

"How could I do such difficult magic without even knowing the spell?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, accidental magic can sometimes be quite powerful."

Harry snorted. "Great, so I blow up my aunt, and Chrys does advanced Defense magic."

Hermione waved her hand quickly. "Well, it's only a theory. We can't know what it was Chrys did, unless she repeats the action successfully, and this time on purpose."

Chrys grunted. "Well, excuse me if I don't go looking to pick a fight with a dementor."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Hermione said, looking stricken. "I only meant to be prepared—"

"I know," Chrys said, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

"There's more text, if anyone wants to hear it," Hermione offered.

"I think I'd just like to get some rest," Chrys told her.

"If you say so." Hermione stood up, sharing a look with Ron. "I'll just leave the book here, but be sure to return it soon, or you'll get Hagrid in trouble with Madam Pince." Chrys grumbled and flopped down on her hospital wing bed.

By nighttime, she regretted sending their friends away like that. She read the rest of the book's section on dementors, which did nothing to improve her mood.

Besides sucking away happiness, dementors apparently had the ability to suck away souls. The victim was left in a coma-like state, for which there was no known cure.

Harry was eager to try the Patronus Charm out. He got a puff of silvery smoke out of his wand before Madam Pomfrey came in threatening to take his wand away if he didn't rest.

"And anyway, Hermione had a point," Harry thought. "We can't know how effective the spell really is unless we use it against a dementor."

"She didn't have to take the book away too," Chrys complained. "Now I've got nothing to do." She picked a twig up off the neat pile on Harry's bedside table.

After Harry had fallen off his broom, it had drifted into the Whomping Willow and been destroyed. Harry had refused to let Madam Pomfrey throw out the pieces, which Professor Flitwick had kindly retrieved.

"Put that down, please," Harry said gloomily. Chrys returned the twig to the rest of the pile.

She accidentally knocked the fruit bowl over with her elbow. "Whoops!" 

"Ugh." Harry stuffed his fingers in his ears. "Fix that card, will you?" Ginny had made them each get-well cards. The cards were supposed to play _Weird Sisters_ songs whenever they were opened, but Harry's had broken and played all the time unless they muffled it. Chrys quickly scampered around, gathering up the fruit, and shoving Ginny's card back under the bowl. Chrys looked around to make sure the racket hadn't woken Madam Pomfrey. Chrys didn't want to give Madam Pomfrey any excuse to keep them on Monday. "Anyway, I'm too nervous to be bored," Harry thought.

Chrys nodded. Neither of them had told Ron and Hermione about the voice they had heard when the dementors came onto the pitch.

"It's nice to know what mum's voice sounds like, though," Chrys said, trying to stay on the bright side of things. Harry shook his head.

"I guess…"

Chrys knew he'd been having nightmares of their mother's death. He woke up clammy and unrested.

Luckily, Madam Pomfrey didn't keep them over on Monday. But as the term went on, Harry wasn't the only gloomy one. Ron had barely completed his first detention when he earned a second one.

"Honestly, it was worth it," he said darkly.

"You're my hero, Ron," Chrys said brightly. He smiled slightly. Hermione shook her head.

"However idiotic Malfoy is being, you didn't have to throw your crocodile heart at him."

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. "He deserved it, Hermione." During potions earlier, Malfoy had been reenacting Harry's fall from his broom over and over again, until Ron couldn't stand it any longer. "Anyway, if Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off. Check who's in there, Hermione."

Hermione popped her head into the classroom.

"It's okay!"

"Are you feeling better, Professor?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Yes, much," Lupin said. "And you?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. Lupin nodded and they settled into their seats.

Well, somewhat settled. The class was all a buzz from Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?" Seamus complained.

"We don't know anything about werewolves—" Dean agreed.

"—Two rolls of parchment!" Seamus continued over him. Professor Lupin frowned.

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?"

Chrys glanced at Hermione, who blushed slightly.

"Emphatically," Chrys said.

"Yes, but he said we're really behind—" Parvati put in.

"—he wouldn't listen—" Lavender said.

"_Two rolls of parchment_!" Seamus repeated.

Professor Lupin merely smiled at them.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

Seamus leaned back in his chair, smug.

"Oh _no_," Hermione said quietly. "I've already finished it!" Chrys giggled.

The lesson was considerably more enjoyable than the last.

Chrys sketched the hinkypunk, which was a bit like a hand growing out of a leg.

"Lures travelers into bogs," Professor Lupin told them as they took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand?" The hand was holding a lantern filled with glowing green smoke. "Hops ahead—people follow the light—then—" The hinkypunk suddenly launched itself against the glass of its tank, squelching ominously.

"Ew…" Lavender made a face.

"Harry, Chrys, if you would wait a moment," Lupin called out to them as everyone packed up to leave. "I'd like a word." They walked over to his desk as the room cleared. "I heard about the match." Lupin didn't look at them as he spoke, focusing on gathering his books into his briefcase. Harry grimaced, waiting for the pity. It didn't come. "I'm sorry about your broomstick." Harry blinked, looking pleasantly surprised. "Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No. The tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk."

"Sounds stupid," Chrys said without thinking. Lupin grimaced.

"Well, yes. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."

"And, I guess you heard about the dementors," Harry said, resigned. Lupin finally looked up.

"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry," he thought. Hermione had said the same thing. Chrys approved of Dumbledore's reaction. "The dementors have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes." He hesitated, and then glanced at Chrys. She gave him an encouraging nod. "_Why? _Why do they affect me like that? And Chrys…"

"I'm the one who fainted this time," Chrys admitted reluctantly. Lupin frowned.

"Yes, Professor Flitwick mentioned that…"

"Hermione found a book on dementors, but there weren't many details," Chrys complained. "There was nothing about why certain people are more badly affected than others."

"Why?" Harry repeated. "Are we just... not strong enough?" Chrys frowned.

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Professor Lupin said quickly. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."

"Oh," Chrys said in a small voice. She stared at Lupin, with his greying hair and scars. She thought he must have been through some difficulties of his own.

Lupin met her eyes for a moment. An unreadable expression flashed on his face before he looked back down at his books.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places. They glory in decay and despair. They drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling—every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soul-less and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to _you_, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

Chrys smiled sadly. "Professor, when the dementors came onto the pitch…" She looked at Harry. He gave her a slight nod. "We heard Voldemort murdering our mum." Lupin reached out suddenly as if to touch her, but drew back just as quickly. He gripped one of his books, his knuckles going white.

"We heard her on the train too… but only her scream," Harry elaborated. "On the pitch, we heard her begging him to spare our lives…" The room pulsed with heavy silence. "Why did they have to come to the match?"

"They're getting hungry," Lupin said coldly. He shut his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up… I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

"Azkaban… is a fortress on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

Chrys' chest tightened as she thought of Hagrid, who had been wrongly sent to the wizarding prison only last year. And now he had those horrible things drifting around his home. She resolved to bring him a large bar of chocolate.

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said thoughtfully. "He got away…"

Lupin dropped his briefcase, just catching it in time.

"Yes…" He straightened up. "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible… dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…"

"But there is a way to repel them," Chrys said suddenly. "The Patronus Charm."

"Hermione's book?" Lupin guessed. Chrys nodded. "That information isn't commonly available, especially to students in their third year… but I'm not surprised she found it." He smiled slightly.

"So that's what you did on the train," Harry figured.

"Well… yes," Lupin said slowly. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist…"

"Professor Dumbledore did it during the match, when there was a whole lot of them," Chrys said, impressed.

"Professor Dumbledore… well, there are reasons he has the reputation he does. I don't pretend to an expert at fighting dementors, on the contrary…"

Chrys rolled her eyes. Lupin was nearly as stupidly humble as Harry.

Harry cut in. "But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—"

"Bugger, Quidditch," Chrys interrupted Harry. "I'm tired of feeling helpless—and I don't want to lose my soul."

"You won't," Lupin said sharply. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow that—_I _wouldn't—" His voice was low, almost a growl. And the look on his face… Chrys stepped back. The fury was so out of place on his normally calm face. Lupin took a deep breath. The wild look passed, leaving him looking drained.

"Even Dumbledore can't protect us all the time," Harry said, knowing this from experience. Twice they had faced Voldemort in Hogwarts when Dumbledore had been sent away.

"We need to know how to defend ourselves," Chrys agreed. "Please, Professor Lupin, teach us how."

"Well…" Lupin hesitated. Chrys and Harry stared up at him hopefully. "Alright. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to ill."

"You don't choose when to fall ill," Chrys said sympathetically. Lupin grimaced.

"Thanks, really, Professor," Harry said. Lupin brightened a bit.

Harry brightened considerably at the idea of anti-dementor lessons with Professor Lupin.

Chrys wasn't nearly as cheerful. She had her detention with Snape at the end of the day.

Harry had offered to walk her down to the dungeons, but got sidetracked when Oliver Wood pulled him off to the side.

Now, Chrys was tapping her foot, glaring at her watch. If she was late to detention, she might as well sign up for another one right now.

"Wood thinks we can still win the cup!" Harry said as he joined her again. "But we definitely have to win the next match by a large margin, or else we're out of the running."

"Uh-huh," Chrys said.

In the potions room, Chrys shucked the spines off a shrake. She glanced out the window at the powdery layer of snow forming, wondering if Harry and the Gryffindor team were still training in this weather. Knowing Oliver Wood, they probably were.

Chrys grunted as the spines suddenly stabbed through her thick gloves.

Snape looked up. "Miss Potter, what did I say about exciting the spines?" He hissed.

"Not to?" Chrys said dully, pulling off her glove to look at the small puncture marks on her hand. The fish was already dead, but its spikes would still stand on end and poke you if you weren't careful. Snape pressed his lips together, staring at her hand.

"This will be the end of your detention. Go to the hospital wing."

"But—" She had just gotten out of the hospital wing this morning.

"_Now_," Snape said sharply.

"But they aren't poisonous, right?" Chrys grumbled, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder nonetheless.

"Shrakes are not the cleanest of creatures. Therefore, that wound has a high chance of becoming infected," Snape explained in a measured tone. "So, get to the hospital wing before your hand turns yellow and falls off."

Chrys blinked, unable to tell if he was joking or not. She wasn't sure which scenario would be more disturbing.

"That should do it," Madame Pomfrey said, after dabbing a stinging solution on Chrys' hand and wrapping it in a thin bandage. "You can remove that by tomorrow."

"Thank you," Chrys said. Overall, she thought being stabbed by a shrake must be good luck. After all, she'd gotten out of detention early. She gave Ron a superior smirk. He looked up from the bedpan he was cleaning and made a rude gesture at her. The gesture was not nearly so intimidating with a clothespin pinched over his nose. She laughed until Madame Pomfrey shooed her away.

Her good mood continued throughout the last two weeks before the holidays.

Chrys had a long, pleasant chat with Professor Flitwick about the real life fairies he had convinced to flutter around the classroom, like little giggling balls of light.

"You put out a little milk on a moonlight night, and _something_ is bound to show up," Flitwick told her. "You just have to be careful about what shows up, and be very polite to any guests."

Harry and Chrys signed up immediately when Professor McGonagall came around with the list for who was going to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. They exchanged a suspicious look when Ron and Hermione signed up as well.

"I need some space from Percy," Ron said, waving his hand dismissively.

"And I have some work I need to do in the library," Hermione added. Ron couldn't look them in the eye, and Chrys knew for a fact that Hermione could've checked all of those books out. Ron and Hermione didn't have to stay to keep an eye on them, but the twins weren't going to argue too much about being able to see their friends on Christmas. "I'll make it up to my parents by getting them some gifts in Hogsmeade!" Hermione smiled. Harry sighed quietly. "Mum and dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes! And I'll have just enough time to send them out so they arrive on Christmas morning."

"Are you going to be reading that the whole time they're gone?" Chrys complained, after Ron and Hermione had set off for their Hogsmeade trip. Harry looked up from his copy of _Which Broomstick_.

"I have to. The school brooms are ancient. How can I train with an uncooperative broom?"

"At least let's go back to the common room," Chrys suggested. "It's warmer there."

"Fine." Harry stood up from the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall had emptied over twenty minutes ago, and Chrys wasn't too fond of the chill that settled once it wasn't filled with warm bodies.

"Psst—Harry—Chrys!" Someone called out quietly. Chrys turned to see the Weasley twins poking out from behind a statue of a hump backed, one-eyed witch. George motioned them over.

"What are you doing?" Harry and Chrys wondered in unison.

"How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?" Harry added, curious.

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," Fred said, winking. "Come in here…" They moved to an empty classroom nearby. George looked left and right down the hall before closing the door.

Then he beamed. "Early Christmas present for you two."

Fred pulled something out from under his cloak.

"We've only got one, I'm afraid, so you'll have to be nice and share."

Harry and Chrys stared at the old, blank sheet of parchment.

Harry squinted suspiciously at it. "What's that supposed to be?"

"If it explodes ink in my face or something—" Chrys said warningly.

"We'll keep that in mind," Fred said, scratching his chin. "But no tricks, Chrys, promise."

"This, is the secret of our success," George said, patting the parchment fondly.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," Fred said solemnly. "—But we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it by heart," George continued. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

"And what do we need with a bit of old parchment?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

Fred closed his eyes and put a hand on his chest.

"A bit of old parchment!" He sounded very offended indeed. "Explain, George."

"Well… when we were in our first year, Harry—young, carefree, and innocent—" He began. Harry and Chrys both snorted. "—Well, more innocent than we are now—we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason," Fred elaborated.

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—"

"—detention—"

"—disembowelment—"

"—and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinet marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_."

"Oh?" Chrys said.

"Don't tell me…" Harry grinned.

"Well, what would you've done?" Fred thought. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb. I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed—_this_."

"It's not as bad as it sound, you know," George said defensively. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it," Chrys figured.

"Oh yes." Fred smirked. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding me up," Harry thought, staring doubtfully at the parchment.

"Oh, are we?" George took out his wand and touched the parchment lightly. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

Suddenly thin inked letters began to scrawl out from under George's wand. 

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief—Makers are proud to present_

**The Marauder's Map**

Chrys shifted uncomfortably, remembering Harry and Ginny's descriptions of the sentient diary where Voldemort had stored the memory of his younger self.

And then a map began to sketch itself out. Chrys gasped, immediately forgetting her misgivings. She had never seen a map of the castle. She vaguely remembered Hermione saying that the castle was enchanted to be unmapable, which must make this raggedy old thing very strong magic.

The drawings were simple, like an architectural layout of walls, halls and doors. The more impressive bit was the small inky dots. They moved to and fro, labeled with the names of various inhabitants of the castle. Professor Dumbledore's dot was located in his study. He appeared to be pacing in thought. Mrs. Norris, Filch's watchful cat, was on the second floor. Peeves the Poltergeist was in the trophy room, probably up to no good.

And furthermore, there were halls and passageways Chrys had never seen before. Several of which seemed to lead…

"Right into Hogsmeade," Fred said, finishing her thought. He traced one with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four—" He pointed them out. "—but we're sure we're the only ones who know about _these_. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's been caved in—completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes." Chrys thought back fondly to all of the sweets Ron and Hermione had brought back from their first trip. "We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through the one-eyed, old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs." George sighed and patted them map again. "We owe them some much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Fred said.

"Right." George straightened up. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it—"

"Or anyone can read it," Fred warned.

"Just tap it and say _mischief managed_ and it'll go blank."

"So, young Potters." Fred puffed his chest out in an uncanny impression of Percy. "Mind you behave yourselves." Chrys laughed.

"See you in Honeydukes." George winked and then waved as they left the room. Harry and Chrys stared at the map, and then looked at each other, grinning widely.

"Well," Chrys said. "What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing at all," Harry said. And then he paused. "Mr. Weasley has said not to trust anything that can think for itself—if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

"Yeah, I know. I thought of the diary…"

"Me too." They grimaced. "Well, Fred and George have been using it for years, and it's not as if anything bad's happened to them," Harry reasoned.

"And you _really_ want to get into Hogsmeade," Chrys said knowingly. Harry rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. Chrys shrugged. "I say let's go for it."

So they did. They stood in front of the statue of the one-eyed witch, wondering how to work the entrance, when Chrys nudged Harry. The two dots marked _Chrysanthemum Potter_ and _Harry Potter_ were vibrating slightly in their parallel position on the map. Harry's little ink dot raised what was unmistakable as a wand and tapped the statue. A little speech bubble popped up next to him. Chrys squinted to read the writing.

_Dissendium._

"_Dissendium,_" Harry repeated, tapping the statue with his wand. And with that, the statue's hump slid open.

"Good thing we're so scrawny," Chrys thought, eyeing the small opening. Harry didn't respond, already looking around and hoisting himself into the hole.

"Omph!" He groaned a moment later.

"You okay?" Chrys called down quietly.

"Fine. Bumped head." He sounded embarrassed. Chrys rolled her eyes. Well, that's what he got for going in headfirst (so to speak). She lowered herself in carefully.

In an instant, she slid down a stone slide and landed neatly on her feet.

The dark tunnel smelled like dirt.

"_Lumos_," Harry muttered. He held his wand up. Chrys took hers out and tapped the map.

"Mischief managed," she said, watching the lines of the map go blank again. The parchment looked so innocuous. She stuffed it down her robes and gave Harry a nod.

The two of them started forward, twisting and turning through the passage.

"It's like a giant rabbit burrow," Harry thought, panting a bit.

"I think we're almost there," Chrys said, gesturing at a stone staircase at the end of the tunnel. They climbed… and climbed… and climbed…

When they finally reached the top, Chrys pointedly did not look down. She was feeling a little light headed. Harry cocked his head, listening for a moment before he pushed open the trap door above them.

They were in a cellar filled with crates. Chrys could smell sugar. Harry carefully closed the trapdoor. It fit seamlessly into the wooden floor.

"Uh-oh…" Harry put a finger to his lips as they heard voices and footsteps. Chrys motioned at the largest crate, and they ducked behind it.

"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear," a woman called down. "They've nearly cleaned us out." Chrys and Harry waited for the footsteps to retreat and then climbed up the wooden staircase, slipping through the door marked 'employees only.'

Honeydukes was buzzing with students, none of which noticed the twins squeezing into the crowd. Harry laughed, looking around the shelves. There were chunks of nougat as big as his fist, coconut ice, pink and shimmering. Honey-colored toffee, chocolate bars with hundreds of different fillings… a barrel of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (Chrys passed those by, not wanting another spinach bean), Fizzing Whizbees, levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned.

Harry elbowed Chrys, motioning at a section marked 'Special Effects.' Droobles Best Blowing Gum (bubbles that grew as big as the room and wouldn't pop for days), the Toothflossing Stringmints that Hermione had mentioned, the black Pepper Imps that Harry had tried (steam had come out of his ears), Ice Mice ("they make your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint cream toads ("they hop realistically in your stomach!"), glittering sugar quills and exploding bonbons.

Chrys elbowed Harry, motioning at Ron and Hermione, who were standing under a sign labeled 'Unusual Tastes.' Harry peered over Ron's shoulder at the tray of blood-flavored lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione complained.

"Yeah, but Chrys would find them a laugh," Ron figured. "How about these?" He held up a jar of Cockroach Clusters.

"Definitely not," Harry and Chrys said together.

Ron dropped the jar, but luckily caught it before it hit the ground.

"_Harry!" _Hermione squeaked. "_Chrys! _What are you doing here? How—how did you—?"

"Wow!" Ron looked very impressed. "You've learned to apparate."

"Course we haven't," Harry said.

"Anyway, I don't know the mechanics of apparating, but I'm pretty sure Hermione's mentioned you can't do it in and out of the castle," Chrys pointed out. Hermione pursed her lips. Harry explained about the map in a low voice.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to _me!" _Ron complained. "I'm their brother!"

"I reckon they felt bad for us stuck in the castle," Chrys said truthfully. Ron pouted.

"But you aren't going to keep it!" Hermione protested, frowning at Chrys. "You and Harry are going to hand it in to McGonagall, aren't you?"

Harry and Chrys looked at each other. "Why would we do that?"

"Are you mad?" Ron agreed. "Hand in something that good?"

"Besides, if we hand it in, we'll have to say where we got it! Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!" Harry defended.

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"

Chrys frowned. "You have a point."

Hermione looked highly vindicated.

"Yeah, but, he can't be getting in through a passage," Harry thought. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch knows about four of them. And of the three—one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it."

"One of them's under the Whomping Willow, so that's no good," Chrys figured.

"And the one we just came through… well… it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there…" Harry hesitated.

"What if he does know it's there?" Chrys thought.

Ron cleared his throat. "There's just one thing." He pointed at a notice on the door.

**By Order of**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

_Merry Christmas!_

"Merry Christmas indeed," Chrys said, shaking her head. "Ron, we've been over this. He's already gotten past the dementors twice—what's to stop him from doing it again?"

"Well, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they?" Ron thought. "They live over the shop!" Chrys nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, but—but—" Hermione's brow furrowed. "Look, Chrys and Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. They haven't got their forms signed! If anyone finds out, they'll be in so much trouble! And besides, what if Sirius Black shows up right now and kills everyone in the shop!"

"Hermione, now you're just looking for excuses," Chrys thought. "We know Black killed thirteen people in one go, but Hogsmeade is a whole village of wizards."

Ron nodded. "Anyway, he'd have a job spotting Harry and Chrys in this." He gestured at the crowds, and then out the window at the thick swirling snow. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. These two deserve a break."

Hermione bit her lip.

"Are you going to report us?" Harry appeared to be trying not to smile.

"Oh, of course not—but honestly, Harry…"

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" Ron said excitedly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him over to the barrel. Hermione sighed.

"Anything you wanted to see, Chrys?" She asked after a moment. Chrys beamed.

"You know, I am running low on Licorice Wands…"

After purchasing their sweets the four of them stepped into the blizzard.

"It's looks like a Christmas card," Harry thought, looking around at the snow covered roofs and wreathes on the doors. Hermione smiled.

Moments later it wasn't so pretty. Chrys shivered. She and Harry hadn't brought their cloaks. Ron and Hermione had pulled their scarfs over their mouths and were shouting over the wind.

"That's the post office—"

"Zonko's is up there—"

"We could go up to the Shrieking Shack—"

"Tell you what," Ron said, as Chrys' teeth started chattering. "Shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?" Harry nodded eagerly. He was trying to warm his hands in the folds of his robes.

The Three Broomsticks was brighter than the Leaky Cauldron, but just as bustling and noisy. Chrys eyed the woman at the bar, who leaned across it to hear something a warlock was saying. The woman let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back.

"That's Madam Rosmerta," Ron said, following her gaze.

"She's very pretty," Chrys said aloud.

"Yes, well…" He blushed slightly. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" Hermione sniggered.

They found a table at the back of the room, just the fireplace and a thick Christmas tree.

Ron joined them five minutes later, balancing four steaming tankards on a tray.

"Merry Christmas!" He said happily, sliding down next to Harry and raising his tankard.

"Cheers!" Chrys said, taking a sip of her foaming drink. Harry's eyes widened and he took a deeper drink. Then he blinked. A breeze ruffled his hair as a bell jingled at the door. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just stepped in. Harry choked on his butterbeer. Chrys sank low in her chair. Hagrid followed the professors as he talked to… Cornelius Fudge. Chrys frowned. She could imagine Hagrid going out to the pub with the Minister, who had been the one to wrongly imprison him in Azkaban last year.

Ron and Hermione unceremoniously pushed the twins under the table. Chrys splattered butterbeer down her front. Harry was watching Fudge's feet—which were suddenly coming right towards them.

"_Mobiliarbus!" _Hermione muttered. The large Christmas tree hopped over in front of them. Ron let out a breath of relief. The adults had taken a table nearby, and were ordering their drinks. Rosmerta brought them over with incredible speed.

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," Fudge said. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Rosmerta's glittering high heels went and joined the other shoes. Harry was staring hard. Hermione's leg was bouncing. "So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?"

There was a pause. "… What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," Rosmerta said slowly.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall wondered, exasperated. Chrys grimaced. Hagrid always did have loose lips, especially when he drank.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" Madam Rosmerta whispered.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge said. He didn't elaborate. Chrys figured he meant Black was biding his time to take another shot at her and Harry.

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?" Madam Rosmerta said sharply. "Scared all my customers away… it's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge said uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution…" Chrys frowned. "Unfortunate, but there you are… I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore—he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," Professor McGonagall said. There was even more of an edge to her voice than Rosmerta's. Chrys nodded vehemently. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors around?"

"Hear, hear!" Professor Flitwick cried. He sounded a little drunk already. His feet were dangling off the ground.

"All the same," Fudge said gently. "They are here to protect you all from something much worse… we all know what Black's capable of…"

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it?" Rosmerta said thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought… I mean, I remember when he was a boy at Hogwarts." Chrys tilted her head, listening closely. It was always good to know what you were up against. "If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said, his voice going ruff. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" Rosmerta was curious. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

"I certainly do," Fudge said.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" Rosmerta wanted to know.

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally." Rosmerta let out a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here—ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter."

Harry dropped his tankard. Ron kicked him. Chrys hugged her knees against her chest. She felt like she was going to be sick.

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course—exceptionally bright, in fact—but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers—"

"I dunno," Hagrid interjected. He chuckled. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run for their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Flitwick chimed in. Chrys was shaking now. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge said. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry." Chrys clapped her hands over her mouth. Harry was glaring at his boots. "Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Rosmerta whispered.

"Worse even than that, m'dear…" Fudge dropped his voice low. "Not many people are aware the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" Rosmerta wondered. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," he told her. "…involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find—unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper," Rosmerta guessed.

"Naturally," Professor McGonagall said. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself… and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

Rosmerta gasped. "He suspected Black?"

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," Professor McGonagall explained angrily. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did." Fudge sighed. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been preformed—"

"Black betrayed them?" Rosmerta finished for him.

"He did indeed," Fudge continued. "Black was tired of his double agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planed this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as well all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in the little Potter twins. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen the very moment when he, Black had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it—"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid roared. Hermione reached under the table and gripped Chrys' shoulder painfully. The entire pub went quiet for a moment.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall told him, though she sounded a bit sympathetic.

"I met him!" Hagrid growled. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James' house after they was killed! Jus' got Harry an' Chrys outta the ruins, poor little things, with great slashes on their foreheads, an' their parents dead… an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James' Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!"

"Hagrid, please!" Professor McGonagall pressed. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give the twins ter me, Hagrid, I'm Harry's godfather, I'll look after them—' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said the twins was ter go ter their aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get them there. 'I won't need it anyone,' he says. I shoulda known there was something' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me gor? Why Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was going' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o'hours before the Ministry was after him. _But what if I'd given the twins to him, eh? _I bet he'd've pitch 'em off the bike hallway out ter sea. His bes' friend's kids! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore…"

Silence stretched on until Rosmerta spoke up again.

"But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him the next day!"

"Alas, if only we had," Fudge said bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew—another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew… that fat little boy who was always tagging after them at Hogwarts?" Rosmerta recalled.

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I—how I regret that now…" The tough, straight-backed Professor McGonagall sniffled.

"There, now, Minerva," Fudge said. "Pettigrew did a hero's death. Eyewitnesses—muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later—told us how Pettigrew corned Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…"

Professor McGonagall blew her nose. "Stupid… foolish boy. He was always hopeless at dueling… should have left it to the Ministry."

"Let me tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands—I'd have ripped him limb—from—limb," Hagrid growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," Fudge said sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would've stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was a Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I—I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him… a heap of bloodstained robes and a few—a few fragments…" The entire table of adults appeared to be blowing their noses. "Well, there you have it, Rosmerta. Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

Rosmerta let out a long breath. "Is it true he's mad, Minister?"

"I wish I could say that he was," Fudge said slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man—cruel… pointless. Yet, I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark, there's no sense in them… but I was shocked at how _normal _Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored—asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him—and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" Rosmerta asked. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is the-er—eventual plan," Fudge said, in the practiced tone of a politician. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who friendless is one thing… but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…"

"You know, Cornelius," Professor McGonagall said suddenly. "If you're dinning with the headmaster we'd better head back up to the castle."

Chrys waited until the footsteps cleared and then ran for the door.

"Chrys!" Hermione shouted. She could hear the others running after her, crunching through the snow. She ducked into a nearby alleyway and leaned against the wall.

She breathed heavily, closing her eyes for a moment. Her stomach wrenched.

Suddenly Hermione was behind her, holding back her hair as Chrys lost her breakfast. When it finally seemed to stop, Chrys looked up at the sky. The snowflakes melting against her cheeks felt good.

"We should be getting back," Harry said roughly.

"Yes, of course—Chrys do you need anyth—"

"I'm fine," Chrys cut Hermione off. "We'll see you in the castle." Chrys and Harry walked quietly back to Honeydukes. Chrys couldn't look at him.


	11. Of Twelve and Time Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late!

Chrys cried all the way back through the dark tunnel. Harry kept tripping over protruding rocks and roots. At one point, she tried to grab his hand, but he jerked away like she'd burned him. She didn't touch him after that.

She didn't follow him as he moved towards the Great Hall. Students were getting back from Hogsmeade. It was almost time for dinner.

Chrys made a beeline for the restroom. She gargled water until the taste of sick diminished somewhat. Then she eyed her face in the mirror.

"Chrys?"

Chrys looked up to see Padma looking at her concernedly. Chrys wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper and smiled vaguely at her.

"Hi," she croaked out. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"We both could've been more proactive about that," Padma said, straightforward as always. Chrys smiled a little more genuinely at her. "Are you crying about anything in particular?"

Chrys shrugged. "Don't want to talk about it." Actually, she might like to, but it's not the sort of topic she could just bring up. She splashed some water on her face.

"Hmmm… come on, then." They stepped out of the restroom. A few of the students glanced at Chrys curiously. "You look horrible."

"Thanks."

"Here." Padma spotted someone in the crowd and waved them over.

"Chrys?" Parvati frowned at her. "What's wrong?" Lavender opened her mouth.

"She doesn't want to talk about it," Padma told them. She looked at Chrys. "Lav can do something about your face, if you want." Chrys looked at Lavender.

"Oh, yeah, I've got this potion that removes most of the redness and swelling…" Lavender rummaged through her bag. "Here." She held up a small pink vial. "Two drops in each eye, okay?" Chrys nodded and took it from her.

"There you are!" Hermione said, pulling Chrys into a hug as they reached the table. "Harry wouldn't say where you went." Chrys looked at Harry. He was poking at a potato on his plate, still not looking at her.

"She was with us," Lavender said, sitting down across from them. Parvati nodded.

"Chicken, Chrys?"

"Okay, thanks," Chrys said as Parvati placed some chicken on her plate. She had no desire to eat, but growing up with the Dursleys had taught her never to pass up food. So, she took small bites as Ron and Hermione watched her and Harry nervously. "You know… I'm not going to explode," she told Ron. Ron stiffened.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did…"

"If you want to talk about it," Hermione said. "We—" Ron shushed her as Percy leaned over the table.

"Pass the vegetables, Ronald."

"Yeah, yeah, turnip-head," Ron muttered, picking up the bowl.

"What was that?" Percy squinted at him. For once, Chrys was glad Percy was there.

Back in Gryffindor tower, a crowd had gathered around Fred and George, who had set off a dungbomb to celebrate the end of term. Chrys maneuvered past the festivities and went straight to bed.

She pretended to be asleep when Hermione came to check on her.

She must have actually drifted off at some point, because it was dark when she woke from her nightmare. Her heart thudded in her chest. In her dream, Chrys had walked down a street covered in rubble. Buildings were crumbling. Sirius Black was laughing, standing on the top of a pile of dead bodies. As Chrys got closer she saw the faces of her mother, her father… and Harry…

She moved down to the common room. It was empty, except for Hermione's cat setting on Chrys' favorite windowsill. Crookshanks mewed up at her.

"Go away," Chrys said tiredly, settling onto the seat. Crookshanks ignored her words and hopped onto Chrys' lap. The cat was warm and vibrating as he purred. Chrys didn't push him off.

She wasn't surprised to see Harry coming down the stairs. He paused on the bottom step and then held something up. It was the leather bound photo album that Hagrid had given them at the end of their first year. It was filled with pictures of their parents. Chrys wiped her watering eyes and gave Harry a nod. He sat next to her and started turning the pages, scanning the images quickly. Chrys knew what he was looking for.

He found it on one of the pictures of their parents' wedding. Chrys had seen it before, but never connected the man standing arm and arm with her father with the man in the wanted poster. It _had_ been thirteen years, but still… the younger Black was handsome, long hair well kempt and smile glowing.

"Azkaban changed him," Harry figured. "…But the dementors don't affect him. _He_ doesn't have to hear our mum screaming whenever they get close—" He snapped the book shut.

They had fallen asleep on the sofa. Not an uncommon occurrence, but Chrys was surprised to see the common room empty when they woke, even as the sun streamed through the frosted windows.

"You two look horrible," Ron said as they rubbed their eyes. He burped. There was a pile of sweet wrappers sitting in front of him.

"Yeah, well, you're going to make yourself sick," she replied weakly. Ron chuckled, rubbing his stomach.

"She's right, you know." Hermione eyed him disapprovingly. Hermione had all her books and homework spread out over the floor.

"Where is everyone?" Harry wondered, still glancing around the room.

"Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" Ron said. "It's nearly lunchtime, we were going to wake you up in a minute."

"I guess I should get changed," Chrys decided. She looked down at Crookshanks, who didn't seem to want to move. Hermione squinted at her.

"You really don't look well, you know."

"I'm fine," Chrys lied. Hermione didn't look convinced. She exchanged a look with Ron.

"Harry, Chrys, listen," she said. "You must be really upset about what we heard yesterday, but the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid."

"Like what?" Harry said blankly.

"Like trying to go after Black," Ron said sharply. Harry pursed his lips.

"You won't, will you, Harry?" Hermione said.

"Cause Black isn't worth dying for, right, Chrys?" Ron added. Harry frowned.

"D'you know what Chrys and me hear whenever the dementors get close?" He said. Ron and Hermione shook their heads apprehensively. "We can hear our mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. If you heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friends of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her—"

"There's nothing you can do!" Hermione snapped. Her eyes were wide. "The dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and—and serve him right!"

"You heard what Fudge said. Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are," Harry reminded her. "It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others."

"So what are you saying?" Ron asked. "You want to—to kill Black or something?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione squeaked. "Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?"

"Malfoy knows," Harry said, not answering her. Chrys studied him. "Remember what he said in potions? _If it were me I'd hunt him down myself… I'd want revenge_."

"You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?" Ron asked, getting angry. "Listen, you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black finished with him? Dad told me—the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous—"

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," Harry continued. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle—"

"Say You-Know-Who, will you?" Ron interjected, shivering. Chrys frowned.

Harry ignored them.

"—So obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort—"

"—And Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew!" Ron said over him. "Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch." Chrys snorted.

"Harry, _please_," Hermione choked out. Tears dripped down her face. "_Please_, be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants… oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, they'd never want you to go looking for Black!"

"I'll never know what they'd wanted, because, thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them," Harry said darkly. Chrys glanced at the album, and then over at Harry.

"What about what I want?" She said quietly. They turned to her.

Hermione sniffled hopefully.

"What do you want?" Harry grunted. "You've been awfully quiet…"

Chrys grimaced. "I agree with Ron and Hermione," she told him. Harry's brow furrowed. She held up her hand. "Maybe I'm selfish, Harry, but our parents are already dead. I never got to know them, but I know you, and I know I'd miss you horribly if you died avenging them. Sirius Black already took them away from me, don't let him take you too."

Harry grew quiet. Crookshanks finally got off of Chrys and stretched his legs.

Ron's pocket quivered.

"Look!" Ron said. "It's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's—let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!"

"No!" Hermione said sharply. "Harry and Chrys aren't supposed to leave the castle, Ron—"

"Yeah, let's go." Harry stood up. "And I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told us about our parents!" He glared at Chrys. "Unless you're too worried I'll go chasing after Black and explode into a million pieces?"

"No." Chrys stood up. "I'd like to ask him some questions too. I'm tired of being treated like a baby. Somebody should've told us about this as soon as Black escaped." Harry looked somewhat vindicated. "Let me just change first…" She glanced out the window. "It's cold out there." Harry nodded.

"Er, wait—" Ron said. "We could play a game of chess instead. Or Gobstones, Percy left a set—"

"Who wants to play Gobstones?" Chrys wondered distastefully. "We're going to see Hagrid. I need answers."

The four of them trudged across the grounds, the snow up to their ankles. Hagrid's hut, covered in snow, looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked. There was no answer.

"He's not out, is he?" Hermione wondered. A gust of wind disturbed the snow, spraying their faces. She tugged her cloak further up her neck.

Ron pressed his ear to the door. "There's a weird noise. Listen—is that Fang?"

Chrys, Harry and Hermione shuffled around to try and make space for everyone to listen at the door.

"No," Chrys said suddenly. "That's Hagrid—he's crying." Ron looked stricken.

"Think we'd better go and get someone?"

"Hagrid!" Harry thumped on the door. "Hagrid, are you in there?" Footsteps thumped up into the door.

Sure enough, when Hagrid opened the door they saw that his eyes were red and swollen. His leather coat was wet with tears.

"Yeh've heard?" He sobbed. Hagrid flung himself into Harry's arms. Harry let out a grunt, pinned under most of Hagrid's considerable weight. The other three grabbed at Hagrid's arms and gently led him back inside.

Hagrid continued to wail. "Hagrid, what is it?" Hermione asked nervously. Harry glanced at the table, picking up an official looking letter.

"What's this, Hagrid?" He asked. Hagrid's sobs grew louder. He motioned at Harry to read it.

"_Dear Mr. Hagrid,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident."_

"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" Ron figured, clapping him on the shoulder. Hagrid shook, waving at Harry to continue.

"_However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official compliant of Mr. Lucius Malfoy and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous creatures._"

"Disposal!" Chrys said in a hushed voice.

Harry went on. "_The hearing will take place on April 20__th__, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

_Yours in fellowship…" _Harry didn't bother to read out the extensive list of school governors. He threw down the letter in disgust.

There was a pause, and then, "Oh, but you said Buckbeak isn't a bad hippogriff, Hagrid, I bet he'll get off—" Ron said, being overly optimistic in Chrys' opinion.

Hagrid agreed with her. "Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" He choked. "They've got it in fer interestin' creatures!"

Hagrid was interrupted by a loud snapping noise. The quartet jerked their heads around to find the hippogriff in question munching on some bloody meat and bones in the corner of Hagrid's hut. Hermione looked at him doubtfully. "I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!

Hermione pulled a handkerchief out from her pocket. Hagrid blew his nose loudly. He offered it back to her but she eyed it and shook her head.

"Er, keep it, Hagrid." She cleared her throat. "Anyway—what we need is a good strong defense. I'm sure we can prove Buckbeak is safe."

"Bless yeh, Hermione." He sniffled a bit. "But it won't make no diff'rence! Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. Scared o' him. An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak…" Hagrid sliced his finger over his throat. Chrys swallowed.

"What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?" Harry suggested.

"He's done more'n enough fer me already," Hagrid figured. "Got enough on his plate what with keepin' them dementors outta the castle, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around—" Hagrid frowned, turning to the twins.

Chrys gave Harry a look like 'don't you dare confront him about Black right now.' Harry shot a look back at her: 'of course not!'

"Listen, Hagrid," Harry said quickly, before Hagrid could scold them about leaving the castle again. "You can't give up. Hermione's right, you just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses—"

"I'm sure I've read about a case of hippogriff-baiting," Hermione said thoughtfully. "… Where the hippogriff got off. I'll look it up for you, Hagrid, see exactly what happened."

Hagrid let out another helpless roar. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, at a loss.

"Er—shall I make a cup of tea?" Ron offered. Harry stared at him. Ron shrugged, his ears going slightly pink. "It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset." Chrys swallowed a nervous laugh.

After several cups of tea, Hagrid's sobbing finally dwindled.

"Hang in there, Hagrid," Chrys said. "Buckbeak needs your support right now."

"Yer right." Hagrid had abandoned Hermione's handkerchief in favor of one the size of a tablecloth. "I can' afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together…" As Hagrid quieted down, Fang peeked out hopefully from underneath the table. Hagrid patted his head a bit. "I've not bin meself lately," Hagrid admitted. "Worried abou' Buckbeak, an' no one likin' me classes—"

"We do like them!" Hermione lied strongly.

"Yeah, they're great!" Ron echoed, crossing his fingers under the table. "Er—how are the flobberworms?"

"Dead," Hagrid said gloomily. "Too much lettuce."

"Oh dear." Ron was trying not to smile.

"An' the dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all," Hagrid continued, shuddering. Chrys patted his shoulder. "Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban…" He cut himself off, having another large gulp of tea. Harry and Hermione looked curious.

"Is it awful in there, Hagrid?" Hermione couldn't help but asking.

"Yeh've no idea." Hagrid's voice was barely a whisper now. "Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind… the day I got expelled from Hogwarts… day me dad died…. Day I had ter let Norbert go…" Tears started to well up again. "Yeh can' really remember who yeh are after a while. An' yeh can' see the point o' livin' at all. I used ter hope I'd jus' die in me sleep…" Chrys felt her chest get tight. However horrible it had been with the Dursleys, she had never felt like giving up completely. Harry was there for her, and she was there for him… but Hagrid, stuck in Azkaban with only dementors for company… "When they let me out, it was like bein' born again, ev'rythin' came floodin' back. It was the bes' feelin' in the world. Mind, the dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go."

"But you were innocent!" Hermione said indignantly. Hagrid snorted.

"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they got a couple o' hundred humans stuck there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn who's guilty an' who's not…" Hagrid stared into his cup. "Thought o' jus' letting Buckbeak go… tryin' ter make him fly away… but how d'yeh explain ter a hippogriff it's gotta go into hidin'? An'—an' I'm scared o'breakin' the law…" His tears were flowing freely again. "I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."

"We won't let that happen," Chrys said firmly. "Never." Hagrid gave her a watery smile.

The next day, the four of them went up to the library. They gathered up every book that even mentioned cases against the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.

Not many people had signed up to stay in the castle over break, so they had plenty of space to spread out over the carpet in the common room.

"Here's something," Ron said, looking up from a dusty volume the size of his head. "There was a case in 1722… but the hippogriff was convicted—ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting—"

"No thank you," Chrys said, feeling her stomach lurch. "What about this one? A manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let him off… oh…. No… that was only cause everyone was too scared to go near it." She grimaced.

"Why don't we take a break?" Harry suggested. It was Christmas Eve. The smell of cooking drifted all the way up to the tower.

Scabbers poked his nose out of Ron's pocket to get a sniff.

"Alright," Hermione said reluctantly. They walked down to the Great Hall. Chrys tried to enjoy the directions. The suits of armor were decked out with strings of lights. Garlands of holly and milestone hung down from the ceiling. Twelve giant Christmas trees lined the Great Hall, each topped with its own golden star. "You know, in Arithmancy we learned that 12 is representative of reincarnation. Because there are twelve months in the year, and the New Year is a time to start again."

On Christmas morning, Chrys woke to the nearly empty girls' dormitory. She smiled at the pile of presents on the end of her bed. Then she debated whether to wake Hermione up or let her sleep. In the end, Chrys remembered that Hermione had forgone seeing her parents to spend the holidays with her friends. So Chrys threw her present at Hermione.

"Oof," Hermione said as the present hit her stomach. "What on earth…?" She sat up and stared at the book shaped package.

"Merry Christmas!" Chrys said cheerfully.

"Oh, yes. Merry—" Hermione yawned. "—Christmas."

"Come on, let's go see if the boys are up yet," Chrys said. She gathered her presents in her blanket and threw that over her shoulder like Santa's sack. Hermione snorted.

"Okay, okay."

Ron and Harry appeared to be having a pillow fight.

"Who's winning?" Chrys said curiously. Harry sheepishly lowered his pillow. Ron smacked him in the face.

"Me," Ron decided. "Presents?"

"Presents," Chrys agreed, unwrapping her blanket over the floor. Harry groped around for his glasses. Hermione took pity on him and handed them over.

"Thanks…"

Ron was tearing open the wrapping on his presents with impressive speed.

"Another sweater from mum… maroon _again_…" He let out an exasperated, yet fond sigh. Harry, Chrys and Hermione had each received a hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well.

"Have to remember to send her a thank you card," Hermione muttered sleepily. Her sweater was a pretty gold that complimented her dark skin. Chrys laughed.

"Ron, are you sure you don't want to trade with Hermione?" She held up Hermione's sweater, motioning at the image of Crookshanks' ugly squashed face that Mrs. Weasley had knitted onto the front. Ron gave her a look. Chrys shrugged and pulled her own sweater over her head. Her sweater was an inverted version of Harry's. Gold like Hermione's, with a red Gryffindor lion on the front. Harry's sweater was red with a gold lion on it.

Harry munched happily at Mrs. Weasley's homemade Christmas cake.

Suddenly, Harry froze, staring at a long thin package on the end of his bed.

"Is that what I think it is?" Ron said hoarsely, pushing away the pair of maroon socks he'd just opened.

"Dunno…" Harry ripped open the package and gasped. Ron dropped his box of nut brittle.

"It's a broomstick," Hermione said unnecessarily. "Well, that's good, Harry. You've been complaining about the school brooms."

"Hermione, that's not just any broomstick!" Ron told her excitedly. Even Chrys recognized the shiny new broomstick. Ron looked at Harry. "I don't believe it…who sent it to you?"

Harry shot Chrys a questioning look. She shook her head.

"I thought about it, but you told me not to spend the money," she reminded him. Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Check and see if there's a card." He and Ron rummaged through the discarded wrapping paper.

"Nothing!" Ron said. "Bilmey, who'd spend that much on you?"

"Well." Harry looked stunned. "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys." Chrys laughed loudly.

"I bet it was Dumbledore," Ron thought, holding the broom aloft.

"Why would he do that?" Chrys wondered.

"He sent you and Harry the Invisibility Cloak anonymously…"

"That was our dad's, though," Harry reasoned. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to us. He wouldn't spend hundred of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this—"

"That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!" Ron thought. "In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism."

"Well, it would be," Hermione thought. Ron glared at her. "I'm only saying—"

Ron let out a roar of laughter. "_Malfoy!_ Wait till he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an _international _standard broom, this is!"

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered. He took the broom back from Ron, running his hand over the smooth wood. "_Who—"_

"I know," Ron said, suddenly stopping laughing. "I know who it could've been—Lupin!"

"What?" Now Harry laughed. "_Lupin_? Listen, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes." Hermione frowned.

"Harry, that isn't very polite."

Harry had the grace to look somewhat admonished.

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but he likes you. And he was away when your Nimbus got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you—"

"What d'you mean he was away?" Harry interrupted. "He was ill when I was playing in that match."

"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing when you fell off your broom," Ron pointed out.

"Right, we were there most of the weekend, and he didn't show up once," Chrys recalled.

"Still…" Harry shook his head. "I can't see Lupin affording something like this."

Ron looked up suddenly. "Oh, don't let _him_ in here!" He tucked Scabbers into his pajama pocket as Crookshanks slunk in, looking even grumpier than usual.

Chrys thought she knew why. The poor cat had silver tinsel strung around his neck. She bent down to take it off. Crookshanks let out a thankful purr.

"Did you do this?" Chrys asked Hermione, holding up the tinsel.

Hermione looked a bit guilty. "I thought it was festive."

"He could choke," Chrys pointed out. Ron considered this. "Open my present," Chrys told Hermione. She did. It was a book on cat care. "I had Ginny write some notes in the margins, since I reckon experience is sometimes better than academia in this case."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, glancing at Harry's broom again. She chewed at her lip.

"What's the matter with you?" Ron wondered. "The dumb cat didn't choke, so it's fine, right?" Crookshanks rubbed against Hermione's leg to support this.

"It's not that," Hermione said slowly. "I just… it's a bit odd, isn't it? Who would send Harry such an expensive gift without telling him?"

"Who cares?" Ron decided. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" Hermione said sharply.

They looked at her.

"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it—sweep the floor?" Ron asked, incredulous. Hermione opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Crookshanks, who leapt suddenly at Ron.

"Get—him—out—of—here!" Ron howled as Crookshanks claws ripped through his pajamas. Scabbers was trying to escape over Ron's shoulder. Ron seized him by the tail and aimed a kick at the cat. He missed and kicked open Harry's trunk.

Harry and Hermione dove down to grab Crookshanks, but weren't having any luck.

"Er…" Chrys said, at a loss as Ron hopped up and down holding his foot. Crookshanks swatted at them from under the bed, his fur standing on end.

Harry's sneakoscope had been knocked out of his trunk and was whirling around noisily. Chrys snatched it up as Hermione finally grabbed hold of her cat.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," Ron said in calm fury. She opened her mouth as if to argue, seemed to think better of it, and left. Then he glared at Chrys. "Can't you shut that thing up?" Chrys shoved the sneakoscope back into Uncle Vernon's old socks in Harry's trunk.

Ron sunk down onto his bed, trying to catch his breath. Scabbers shivered in Ron's hands. He was quite skinny now, and missing patches of fur.

"He's not looking too good, is he?" Harry observed.

"It's stress!" Ron insisted. "He'd be fine it that big stupid furball left him alone!" Harry and Chrys exchanged a grimace.

"I'll go check on Hermione," Chrys said, flinching as Ron looked at her like she'd betrayed him.

Hermione, meanwhile, was furious that Ron had tried to kick Crookshanks. She reluctantly locked the cat in the girls' dormitory, but was now refusing to talk to Ron.

He and Hermione sat at opposite ends of the common room, Chrys and Harry awkwardly in the middle. Harry was examining his broomstick, which didn't appear to be improving Hermione's mood at all.

"Not like the poor Firebolt's been criticizing her cat as well," Harry muttered to Chrys.

Chrys was glad to leave to lunch, where there would be more people to maybe buffer Ron and Hermione's mood. However, it wasn't much of a buffer.

There were only twelve people in total, including themselves, the professors, Filch, a nervous Hufflepuff first year and a grumpy Slytherin fifth year.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore announced, motioning them towards the single table that had been set up in the middle of the Great Hall. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables… sit down, sit down!" The four of them settled down at the end of the table. "Crackers!" Dumbledore continued excitedly. He offered one end to a less enthusiastic Snape. Snape tugged and the cracker went off with a bang that made Chrys jump. A pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture appeared on his head. This was the same hat Snape's boggart had been made to wear. Chrys covered her mouth to stop from laughing. Snape snatched it off and shoved it towards Dumbledore, who gleefully swapped it for his own wizard's hat. "Dig in!"

And so they did.

"Potatoes?" Harry offered the first year, holding the platter aloft. Before the kid could answer, the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Professor Trelawney glided in, her jewelry glittering in the sunbeams flittering down from the enchanted ceiling.  
"Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore said, standing to greet her.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," she informed him. "And to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate?" Chrys wondered if Trelawney had just gotten a little lonely in her tower on Christmas. "I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…"

"Certainly, certainly. Let me just draw you up a chair." He waved his wand, making a chair appear in midair, spinning before it landed with a thud between Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney glanced around the table, her eyes widening as she let out a gasp.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise ill be the first to die!" Harry looked very much like he was trying not to roll his eyes.

"Thirteen has some unlucky connotations," Hermione admitted in a reluctant undertone to Chrys. She pursed her lips. "However, the last bit sounds like a load of hogwash, as usual."

"We'll risk it, Sibyll," Professor McGonagall told her. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold." Professor Trelawney hesitated, but sat this time, her jaw clenched tight. Professor McGonagall held up a spoon of the nearest dish. "Tripe, Sibyll?"

Professor Trelawney opened and closed her eyes. "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

Chrys had been wondering this a bit herself.

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore said lightly. "Most unfortunate that it should happen in Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?" Professor McGonagall said, eyebrows raised. Chrys snorted into her potatoes.

Professor Trelawney gazed coldly back at the other woman.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," Professor McGonagall thought. Professor Trelawney's gaze went from cold to hot.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long," she responded. Chrys frowned at her. "He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—"

"Imagine that," Professor McGonagall said dryly.

"I doubt," Dumbledore said, his cheerful voice raising over both of theirs. "That Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Good. Then he should be up and about in no time…" Dumbledore said. Chrys thought this nixed Harry's theory that Snape was trying to poison Lupin. If Dumbledore thought the potion was fine, then it should be fine… probably. "Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first year kid went red and took a sausage with shaking hands.

The rest of the meal went fairly well. Chrys split a cracker with Hermione, and convinced her to keep the beret that emerged. Ron and Harry, meanwhile, were sporting party hats.

"Merlin I'm full," Ron muttered.

"That's a first," Hermione said, her lips twitching. Ron shrugged.

"Wizard's chess?" He offered. Hermione chewed at her lip.

"I suppose…"

"The common room fire does sound nice right about now," Harry thought. He and Ron stood.

Professor Trelawney shrieked.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno…" Ron glanced nervously at Harry.

"I doubt it will make much difference," Professor McGonagall figured. "Unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the entrance hall." The entire table laughed. Ron relaxed. Chrys stood too.

"Coming?" Harry asked Hermione. She was lagging behind.

"No. I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," Ron said. Chrys snorted. They moved out into the entrance hall.

"Completely devoid of mad-axe men," Harry remarked cheerfully. Ron grimaced.

"Anyway, even if Trelawney's stuff is up to snuff, it isn't like she said _when_ you would die," Chrys pointed out. "Her silly superstition could simply mean you and Harry will die within moments of each other… at the ripe old age of 170."

"Doesn't sound too bad," Ron decided.

At the portrait hole, a drunken Sir Cadogan wished them a Merry Christmas.

"I always wondered how portraits could get drunk," Chrys mused as they climbed inside. Ron shrugged.

"Well, they seem to have drawn a better lot than ghosts, at any rate." His nose wrinkled. Chrys figured he was remembering the rotten fish heads from Nick's deathday party last year. Hermione had figured they liked rotten food, as it was _almost _strong enough to taste.

Speaking of Hermione, she and Professor McGonagall arrived in the common room, just after Harry had gotten out his firebolt again.

"I suppose it doesn't need any maintenance yet," Harry thought, almost disappointed as he looked from the broom to the maintenance kit Hermione had given him for his birthday.

"I'm not certain I agree, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. Harry jumped, just noticing her. "Miss Granger informed me that you have been sent a broomstick." Harry and Ron looked confusedly at Hermione. She flushed and grabbed a book, holding it in front of her face. The book was upside down. "May I?" Professor McGonagall didn't wait for an answer before snatching up the broomstick. "Hmmm… And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No…"

"I see… well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"What?" Harry jumped to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," she told him. Chrys frowned. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down—"

"Strip it down?" Ron's eyes bugged out.

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," Professor McGonagall continued. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Harry said shakily. "Honestly, Professor—"

"You can't know that, Potter." Professor McGonagall's tone was almost gentle. "Not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed." With that, she turned and left with the firebolt. Ron and Harry watched, as if this were the broom's funeral procession.

Harry clutched his broom kit, apparently at a lost for words.

Ron whirled on Hermione.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"

Hermione threw aside her book. Her cheeks were still pink, but she stood face to face with him. "Does this have anything to do with Sirius Black?" Chrys said tiredly. Hermione and Ron froze. Hermione nodded slowly. "You think he may have sent the broom in order to jinx Harry?" Hermione nodded again.

"Well, Professor McGonagall agreed it was a possibility," she said. She chewed at her lip, looking hopefully at Harry. "You understand, don't you, Harry?" He sighed, shaking his head as he disappeared up into the boys' dorm. Ron gave Hermione one last glare before he followed. Hermione turned to Chrys.

"I think you really put your foot in it this time," Chrys said, sinking into the couch. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"Would you rather Harry got jinxed?"

"No… I'm not saying I disagree with you… but Quidditch is really important to Harry. He may well have wanted to risk a jinx, in order to ride that broom." She grimaced. "So much for a pleasant holiday."


	12. Of Arguments and Anti-Dementor Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new year! I think 2019 was difficult for a lot of people, so props to us for surviving, and I hope this next one is better for us all.

Ron and Harry spent most of the holiday in the common room, playing wizard chess. Hermione avoided them like the plague.

She spent most of her time in the library, researching for Buckbeak's trial. Chrys tried to split her time between them, but none of the three were fun to be around.

"You usually do what's best for Harry—why is what I did any different?" Hermione said, pushing aside _Magical Creatures Mishaps_ and snatching up _Unexpected __Wizengamot Rulings_.

"Well, sometimes I've got to weigh his happiness against his physical well-being," Chrys figured.

"That's all well and good, but you're being awfully indecisive about it," Hermione sniffed.

Ironically, Ron agreed.

"You could at least take a side," he complained, ordering his queen across the board. "Check."

Harry cursed. "But… I understand both sides of the situation," Chrys argued.

"Yeah," Harry said, squinting at the board. "So do I, in a way. I know she meant well, but I may never see my broom again. I reckon I have a right to be angry."

Chrys was relieved when lessons started up again. She sat with Ginny at breakfast, which was much nicer than hovering awkwardly between her silently feuding friends.

She and Ginny agreed to put their morning runs on hold. The sharp air was hard enough breath when walking. "We can do walks about the castle or something instead," Ginny offered. She eyed Ron who was very pointedly not looking at Hermione. "Might be a nice change of pace for you." Chrys nodded strongly.

During Care of Magical Creatures, Chrys stood near Lavender and Parvati. Their chatter about the new robes they'd received for Christmas was harmless background noise. Chrys stayed quiet, enjoying the heat off the magical salamanders Hagrid had gathered to make a bonfire.

Divination, predictably, was worse. They were doing palmistry. Trelawney made a point of telling everyone that Harry's lifeline was the shortest she'd ever seen. Hermione glared at her the whole time. At the end of class, she looked very much like she'd like to say something soothing to Harry, but he sped off.

Harry perked up a bit during Defense, when Professor Lupin set their first Anti-Dementor lesson for later that night.

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" Ron thought as they left the classroom. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?" Hermione tutted from somewhere behind them. They turned.

"Oh, there you are," Chrys said.

"I haven't gone anywhere," Hermione lied badly. Chrys rolled her eyes. By now, Chrys was used to Hermione disappearing and reappearing between classes. She hadn't figured out what was going on, and longed to investigate, but thought it was more respectful to wait until Hermione decided to tell her about whatever it was.

"What are you tutting at us for?" Ron grunted. Hermione tried to close her bag over the bulging amount of books.

"Nothing."

"Yes, you were. I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin and you—"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said, shoving her nose up in the air in a very Malfoy like fashion. Harry eyed her distastefully.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," Ron snapped.

"Fine." Hermione marched off.

"She doesn't know," Ron decided. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."

"Maybe…" Chrys frowned thoughtfully. "Let's ask her again when you three have calmed down a bit." Ron snorted.

At eight o'clock, Harry and Chrys went meet Lupin in the empty History of Magic classroom. It was dark. Chrys walked into a desk and swore loudly.

"Here—_lumos_." Harry lit the lamps around the room.

"Thanks…" Chrys rubbed her shin.

Professor Lupin arrived five minutes later, struggling with a large case. He set it down on Professor Binns' desk.

"What's that?" Harry wondered. Chrys eyed the case as it rattled.

"Another boggart?" She guessed. Lupin smiled at her.

"Good observation, Chrys." He pulled off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle, and very luckily found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet." Chrys briefly recalled that the Weasley twins had found the Marauder's Map in that filing cabinet. She and Harry hadn't used it since that faithful first Hogsmeade visit. "It's the nearest we'll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him. There's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."

"Okay," Harry said, trying to hide his nervousness. Chrys had no such luck.

"Er, actually, there might be an issue, there," she said, tapping her fingers against her leg. Lupin and Harry turned to her. "I mean… I'm not sure the boggart will turn into a dementor when it faces _me_." Harry frowned thoughtfully.

"… That was nearsighted of me," Professor Lupin realized. "You two are different people, after all." He nodded to himself. "However, I don't think it will be much of an issue. If Harry stands closest to the boggart, you should still be able to try and cast the spell from behind him." Chrys nodded slowly.

"The Patronus Charm," Harry said.

"Yes," Lupin said, taking out his wand. Chrys and Harry exchanged a look before doing the same. "It's well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level."

"How does it work exactly?" Chrys asked. "Like I said: the book we read wasn't heavy on details."

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," Lupin told them. "…Which is a kind of anti-dementor—a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor." Harry titled his head like an owl. "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a protection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you two—this charm could be too advanced for you to cast. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"Hermione said Chrys did something on the train… a burst of light," Harry said. "Was it a Patronus?"

"Well… it did seem to repel the dementor," Lupin thought. Chrys frowned.

"But I didn't even know about this charm back then, or, like, how to cast it."

"Accidental magic?" Harry wondered. "Can that happen with spells like this?"

Lupin considered. "I've never heard of it happening before… but that doesn't mean it couldn't. You see, like accidental magic, this spell is heavily reliant on our emotions. When we're younger there are more incidents of accidental magic, because we have less control over our emotions—but as we grow older we gain more self-control." He looked at both of them. "For this spell to work, you must find a way to harness that emotional energy on purpose. It works best to focus on a single, very happy memory." He gave Chrys a thoughtful look. "What were you thinking, just before the light appeared?"

"I was…" She shuffled her feet, wondering if Harry would tease her if she told him she had been thinking about him. "I was thinking about Fawkes." This was partly true. "He did make me feel… stronger."

"Fawkes?" Lupin blinked at her. "Professor Dumbledore's phoenix?" She nodded. He waited for her to expand on this. She didn't. "I see… well, a phoenix song is supposed to inspire courage…"

Harry grinned at her. "How very Gryffindor of you."

Lupin's lips twitched as well. "Alright, so, Chrys, you try that memory again. Harry, have you thought of anything?" He asked. Harry's grin disappeared. His brow furrowed. After a moment, he nodded. "Okay." Lupin cleared his throat. "Do you know the incantation?"

"_Expecto Patronum_," Harry and Chrys recalled. Lupin nodded.

"Here's the wand movement." He showed them, and then waited until they each mirror it back to them. "Concentrate hard on your happy memory."

Harry took in a deep breath. "_Expecto Patronum_," he breathed out. Something silvery whooshed out of his wand—like it had in the hospital wing when he tried the spell, but stronger, more solid somehow. Harry turned to Lupin. "Did you see that? Something happened!" Lupin smiled.

"Very good. Chrys, do you want to give it a try before I let the boggart out?"

She nodded. She concentrated hard on the image of Fawkes crying onto Harry's wounds. The wounds healed and Harry sat up again…

"_Expecto Patronum…_" The wisp that came out of her wand wasn't as much as Harry's. She frowned. _"Expecto Patronum_," she said a little more loudly. It seemed to get worse, just a hint of silver sputtering out of her wand. "I don't get it," she grumbled. "If I did it on the train without even trying, then why…"

"Let's try it with the boggart," Lupin said encouragingly. "It should be more difficult, but it will be more… realistic. Closer to the actual circumstances when you would need to cast this charm."

"Right." Harry took another deep breath.

Lupin unclasped the trunk and pulled open the lid.

The dementor rose up.

The lamps Harry had lit flickered out.

Chrys felt like she was plunged into icy water. Silence pressed around her. Her vision was blurred. Was she breathing?

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry shouted. But his voice was muffled. The edges of her vision were growing dark.

"_Expec—_" Her throat was so dry._ "Expecto—_" Her legs wobbled.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry tried again.

"_Not Harry!" _Their mother shouted. _"Don't—not Chrys! Please—I'll do anything—"_

"_Stand aside_," Voldemort said. _"Stand aside, silly girl!"_

Chrys heard Harry collapse beside her. This would not do. If Harry couldn't do it, and she could do it… they were doomed.

She swallowed. "_Expecto Patronum!"_ A wisp of silver flew from her wand. Her knees buckled. She heard Lupin snap the trunk closed. He waved his wand and the lights came back to life. Her vision was clearing. Harry was on his back, staring despondently at the ceiling. "Damn it," Chrys muttered. Lupin helped her to her feet. She was still a little wobbly, but his hands were warm, and his grip was solid—that helped her focus a little more. Harry got to his feet on his own, though he had to lean against a desk.

"Sorry," Harry said quietly, wiping his glasses with the sleeve of his robes.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked.

"Yes…" Harry let out a breath.

"Here." Lupin handed them each a chocolate frog. Chrys gave him a weak smile as she unwrapped it. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time. In fact, I'd be astounded if you did." Chrys frowned.

"But I—"

"Doing something on purpose is much harder than doing it by accident, Chrys," Lupin told her. "In any case, we all have times when our emotions get the best of us."

Harry looked at her searchingly. "Did you…?"

She knew what he was asking. "Yeah. I heard her again. You?"

Harry nodded. "It's getting worse. She was louder. And this time… I heard _him_ too. Voldemort."

Lupin paled, which Chrys thought strange. He had been refreshingly unaffected by the name earlier. "Harry, Chrys… if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand—"

"No!" Harry cut him off strongly. "What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw?" For a moment, Lupin looked like he was trying not to laugh. Chrys made no effort to stop from rolling her eyes. "I can't afford to fall off again." She sighed. "If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered.

He bit off the frog's head, chewing for a moment as he looked at her.

"I mean, if you don't want to—"

She scoffed. "Are you daft? Like I'm going to let you do something better than me."

Harry laughed nervously. Lupin took a deep breath.

"Alright then…" He didn't look too happy about their choice. "Perhaps you should each choose a different memory. Something stronger." Harry nodded, marching back to the middle of the room with his wand out. "Chrys?"

Chrys thought of her first year at Hogwarts. She was studying in the library with Hermione. She made a joke about something. Hermione had laughed but scolded her for not focusing on the work. _"Isn't that what friends are for?" _Chrys teased. _"Distracting you from your homework?" _Hermione had blinked, cheeks slightly pink.

"_I don't know… I mean, I've never really had a friend before." _She stared at the pile of books in front of her.

"_Neither have I, really_," Chrys admitted, feeling kind of stupid. _"Other than Harry, I mean. But, he's my brother, so…" _Hermione looked up, smiling nervously.

"_Well, I'm glad you're my first friend, Chrys_."

"I've got something," Chrys told Lupin. She walked up behind Harry.

"Ready?" Lupin positioned himself behind the box. Harry and Chrys nodded in unison. The box opened. The dementor appeared. His hand reached out to Harry.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry yelled. _"Exp—" _His eyes were rolling back in his head again, like they had on the train. He fell. Chrys wondered if he would start convulsing again. She wondered if he would wake up this time.

She thought of Hermione, the curls of her hair bouncing as she laughed.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Not even a wisp this time.

And again, she was useless to help him.

"_Lily, take them and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" _It was her father's voice this time.

She knew what he sounded like now. He'd tried to fight Voldemort off single-handed. Her chest hurt. He must have loved them a lot to do that. And their mum had offered her life for theirs. Chrys and Harry had been loved…

"_Expecto Patronum!" _She could tell it was different this time. The silver that flew out of her wand was thicker. She didn't feel as cold. _"Expecto Patronum!" _And light burst from her wand—silver and bright like it had been on the train.

"Good!" Lupin shouted. "Chrys, keep it up!"

The dementor struggled against her shield, bumping like a fly against a light bulb… only the dementor was strong. And she was tired.

"I can't—Professor—I can't—" Her shield cracked. She fell to her knees again, gripping her wand. The boggart-dementor advanced on her. His form began to change. It was Harry's body, crumbled on the ground. Blood leaked from his head.

It looked up at her.

"Why didn't you save me?_"_ The Harry-boggart asked her venomously. Her stomach lurched. Lupin swept in front of her. Again the boggart changed.

The yellow-white orb hung above them.

"_Riddikulus!" _Lupin cried. The orb popped like a balloon and whizzed through the air before crumbling to dust.

"I'm sorry," Chrys said breathlessly. "I'm sorry, Professor Lupin. I couldn't—I screwed up—and now the boggart is gone—and I'm so—"

"You didn't screw up," Lupin told her strongly. "It's not a problem. I can find another boggart." He kneeled down next to her. He was even paler now. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Her fringe was soaked. She brushed it back, frowning at Harry.

He still hadn't woken up. What if—?

Her eyes widened. "Harry! Harry—wake up!" She shoved him roughly. He groaned and Chrys could see now that he was breathing. "I'm an idiot."

"No. That was…" Lupin pulled two more chocolate frogs and started eating one himself. He handed the other to her, but she didn't much feel like eating. "That was scary. Your boggart, I mean." Chrys blinked. She didn't think she'd ever heard an adult admit they were scared. Sure, she had seen Aunt Petunia sometimes flinch away from Uncle Vernon's rage, but afterwards she always acted like nothing had happened.

"You're a good person, Professor," she told him earnestly. He stared at her. She nibbled a bit at the chocolate frog. Then Harry sat up.

"Slowly," Lupin warned him as he swayed. Chrys automatically steadied him. Harry looked around confusedly.

"You're in the History of Magic room—we're failing miserably at the Patronus Charm," she reminded him.

"Oh, yeah." Harry groaned.

"You didn't fail," Lupin said. Harry gave him a look: _'Don't patronize me.' _Chrys was sure she had the same look on her face. "Well, you didn't exactly succeed," Lupin allowed. "However, Chrys, you made some great progress."

"You did?" Harry sat up straighter, staring at her. She sighed.

"I don't know…" She tried to tuck her hair behind her ears. It felt hot and heavy against her neck. She wished she had remembered to bring something to tie it up.

"You did," Lupin told her. He looked at Harry. "She managed a shield that pushed the boggart back for a good couple of minutes." Harry shot her a jealous, admiring look.

"Wish I'd seen that."

"Ah…" Chrys looked at Lupin pleadingly. He seemed to understand.

"Regardless, that will be all for tonight. After the shield weakened, I had to destroy the boggart, so we will have to wait to get another before trying again," he said quickly, without elaborating on what exactly had been her act of weakness.

"Right." Harry frowned. "Chrys, what did you think of that time?"

"Well…" She strummed her fingers against her legs. "I… did you hear him this time?"

"Voldemort again?" Lupin wondered. They shook their heads.

"Our dad. Yeah, Chrys, I heard him too," Harry confirmed. And suddenly there were tears rolling down his face. He didn't seem to notice. "He tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give our mum time to run for it…"

"That was when the spell started to work," Chrys told him. "When I thought… I realized our parents must have loved us a lot, Harry. They died for us. That's… that's really something." Harry rubbed his face, seeming to realize he was crying. He looked down at his feet.

Chrys sniffled a bit too. "You heard James?" Lupin asked. He sounded strangled.

"Yeah…" Harry looked up, his face dry. He studied Lupin curiously. "Why—you didn't know him, did you?" Chrys had also noted Lupin's use of their dad's first name. The twins hadn't even known their parents' names until their first year, when Hagrid had told them…

"I—I did, as a matter of fact," Lupin said. Chrys hugged her legs against her chest. Harry looked at Lupin eagerly. "We were friends at Hogwarts."

"And mum too?" Chrys wondered.

"She… not until later," Lupin said. "Around fifth year. We both… we both had a rough year, and she was… Lily was a good person to be around." Chrys wanted to hear more, but Lupin seemed a bit subdued. He was slow in his movements of lighting the lamps again, and piling more chocolate onto one of the desks. "Eat it, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood."

She decided to wait until another time to ask about their parents, maybe during their next lesson. "When can we meet again?" Harry asked, unwrapping one of the chocolate bars.

"Same time next week?" Lupin offered. He eyed Chrys who was still a bit unsteady on her feet. "Give you some time to recover before trying again."

Harry nodded. "I need to get it right," he muttered. He studied Lupin's back as he gathered up the now empty trunk. "Professor Lupin… if you knew our parents, then you must've known Sirius Black as well."

Lupin whirled around. "What gives you that idea?"

Chrys tensed. She shot Harry a warning glance.

"Nothing," Harry said. "I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…" Lupin's face relaxed, and so did Chrys.

"Yes, I knew him," Lupin said shortly. His expression went dark again, like it had when Chrys mentioned the dementors taking her soul. He looked like he might violently attack someone. "Or I thought I did." And Chrys realized, if she and Harry were so sick at the thought of Sirius Black betraying his friends… Lupin must have it even worse. One of his friends caused the death of another. For all their arguing, she could never imagine Hermione betraying Ron to his death, or vice versa. Probably, Lupin had never imagined that happening with his friends either... "We'd better be off… it's getting late. I'll walk you back to the tower."

Chrys and Harry didn't go up to their dorms for a while.

Chrys had thought Ron and Hermione might have waited up in the common room to hear about their lesson, but then she remembered they weren't talking to each other.

So she and Harry sat on the window seat, slowly working their way through the liberal amount of chocolate Lupin had gave them.

"So…" Chrys swallowed a mouthful. "So, Lupin was friends with our parents… I knew I liked him." She smiled weakly. Harry snorted.

"Yeah, well, they were also friends with Black, so excuse me if I don't trust their judgment so much."

"You're excused," Chrys muttered. Harry's lips twitched. It was hard to be angry at each other when they were full of chocolate.

"I keep thinking…" Harry said. "I keep thinking about when we were younger. We would've given anything to hear their voices. And now, we have, and it's terrible, but also…" He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but she couldn't. "I think I know what I'm doing wrong, Chrys. I'll never be able to produce a Patronus if half of me keeps wanting to hear their voices."

"I suppose so," she said quietly. Harry nodded to himself.

"Hmm… They're dead and listening to echoes of their voices won't bring them back. I've got to get a grip on myself if I want that Quidditch Cup."

Chrys rolled her eyes. "I hate Quidditch."

"You don't really," Harry said easily. He leaned back against the wall, watching the stars glitter in the sky. Chrys briefly tried to remember if they had any astrology homework due tomorrow. "You just can't enjoy it because you're too worried I'll fall off my broom."

"Yeah, and who's fault is that exactly?"

"The dementors, Dobby, Quirrell," Harry listed off on his fingers. "I didn't exactly ask for them to come after me, Chrys." He had a point. She huffed and crossed her arms.

"I know that…anyway, it's not just you I'm worried about. I saw that blugger hit George in the face the other day during practice."

"Fred was distracted by Wood's, er, _enthusiastic_ shouts of encouragement," Harry said defensively. "And they both apologized to George—and he laughed it off. And his nose looks fine now…mostly."

"I'm just saying, Quidditch isn't exactly the safest sport, Harry."

"Alright," Harry allowed. "… But it's fun. And flying makes me feel alive. Maybe you should try it sometime, Chrys. You never even got off the ground in flying lessons, first year."

"No thank you," Chrys said stiffly.

"… Someday you'll have to face your fear of heights," Harry said gently. "I mean, I'm not forcing you to do anything right now, but…"

"Hey, I climbed that statue of Slytherin in the Chamber last year," she reminded him. "That was way too far off the ground for comfort, but I did it."

"I know," Harry said. "And I'm…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm proud of you for that." Chrys grinned. It wasn't like Harry never paid her a compliment, but he _could_ stand to do it more often. "I'm proud of you for making a Patronus today, too. I mean, I wish I could've done it too, but you've always been smarter than me, so I'm not surprised—"

"I'm not smarter than you, not really," she said, frowning. He opened his mouth, but she shoved a bar of chocolate into it. He broke off a more reasonably seized piece to chew. "You're just too bloody pessimistic. Find a happy memory—block out the sounds of our parents dying—and you can do it. I know you can."

"Well, maybe." He shrugged. "I just wanted to say, someday you may have to climb up another giant statue of Slytherin—" He grinned a bit at her. She let out a single laugh. "—And flying could help prepare you for that."

"How about this—you don't tell me to fly, and I won't tell you not to."

"Fine." He sounded disappointed.

She decided it was time to head up to bed. There were a lot of issues to tackle, but nothing more she could do about any of them at the moment.

"You don't have to check my Runes homework," Chrys told Hermione later that week.

"It's no problem." Hermione waved her hand, scribbling down a correction on Chrys' paper.

"It might become a problem, if you keep staying up all night," Chrys pointed out. The bags under her friend's eyes were starting to worry her.  
Hermione frowned. "Look who's talking. Anyway I've got more important things to do than sleep, Chrys."

It wasn't just the lack of sleep. Hermione appeared to have lost some weight, and some of the color in her skin.

"Hermione, quality over quantity, right? If you're spread so thin, your coursework is going to suffer," Chrys said gently. Hermione nose wrinkled.

"Thanks for your concern, but I can handle it. Anyway, you've got the Runes for 'safe place' and 'bathroom' mixed up. Unfortunately, they do look quite similar."

"Well, I suppose they don't have to be mutually exclusive," Chrys said, slightly amused. They looked at each other, thinking about Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Under the judgmental eye of the teenaged ghost, they had brewed the polyjuice potion, and found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Chrys wasn't sure if that constituted as a safe place or not. (She was barely sure it constituted as a bathroom.) Although they hadn't got caught brewing the potion, what lay underneath the room definitely wasn't a safe place.

"I'm done." Hermione handed back the essay.

"Isn't there anything I can help you with?" Chrys said anxiously. Hermione frowned.

"I suppose… look over my transfiguration homework for me. I feel like the wording in my third paragraph on the second page sounds weird."

"Okay." Chrys took the parchment Hermione handed over.

Hermione pointed across the room.

"And do it over there, please. I need to concentrate on this other stuff. The way you tap your quill while you're thinking distracts me."

"Okay," Chrys repeated, moving over to sit with Harry and Ron.

"Hey, Chrys," Harry said tiredly. He was also working on homework. Between anti-dementor lessons and Quidditch practice, this was the only night a week he had to finish his homework. Well, Chrys thought ruefully, at least he had one less class than her. "Did you finish that Undetectable Potions essay?"

"Fu—"

"Chrysanthemum!" Percy said sharply as he happened to be passing by.

Chrys rolled her eyes.

"Oh, go snog your girlfriend, Percy."

"Wh-what? Chrys, that's hardly…" Percy's ears turned red as he spluttered and retreated.

Ron made a face. "Thanks for that image, Chrys."

"You're welcome." She looked down at Hermione's essay. "I forgot about potions… I'll get on it soon as I finish looking over Hermione's transfiguration thing."

Ron frowned. "How does she keep doing it?" He wondered.

"Chrys forgetting potions homework?" Harry wondered. "It happens weirdly a lot, considering Snape is likely to give her another detention the next time she doesn't turn it in." Chrys elbowed him. His quill made a long line over the sentence he had been writing. "Chrys!"

She winced. "Sorry about that." She handed him some whiteout, which he carefully painted over the line, muttering darkly. Ron looked interestedly at it, shaking his head.

"Why don't you just vanish the sentence?"

"I would, if I knew the charm," Harry said. "Don't you?"

"No," Ron admitted. "Bet Hermione would." He tried to get a look at her behind her stack of books. "How does Hermione get to all of her classes?" Harry and Chrys both shrugged. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Charms! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but one of them's during Divination, and she's never missed that either!"

"Ron, I don't have the time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment," Harry told him tensely. "I've got to finish this essay before Snape does Black a favor and finishes me off first."

"Fine," Ron grunted. "I'll shut up."

"Good."

The silence lasted about three seconds. "You know, you're awfully observant of Hermione—especially considering you're supposed to be ignoring her," Chrys said, changing a couple words in the paragraph Hermione had mentioned. She felt vindicated. Hermione would've never made these mistakes if she'd been sleeping properly.

Ron shook his head quickly. "I'm not especially—"

"Guys," Harry groaned. "Snape—death by undetectable potions."

"Stop being a drama queen," Chrys told him. She looked at Ron. "You do have a point though, Hermione's been weird." Ron nodded vindictively. Harry looked about ready to slam his head against the table.

"I swear, the two of you—"

"Bad news, Harry," Oliver Wood said, sitting down across from them. Harry took a deep breath. "I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt." Some of Harry's frustration faded to worry. Ron looked up hopefully. "She—er—got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off as long as you caught the Snitch first."

Chrys growled, drawing out her wand and pointing it Wood. Ron grabbed her wrist, giving her an admonishing look rather like Hermione's. Chrys reluctantly lowered her hand. Wood seemed to have missed the whole exchange.

Harry refused to order a new broomstick like Wood suggested. Harry said it was because he didn't want to get anything Malfoy could sneer at, but Chrys knew he was probably just feeling grumpy about the Firebolt.

She had bigger problems.

Since that first lesson, she'd barely been able to produce a puff of the silvery light of a Patronus.

Harry wasn't doing much better, but at least he'd been able to consistently produce curling strands of silver. She told him as much.

"Yeah, but at least you managed to do it properly once," he argued.

"For, like, three minutes!" Chrys argued back. Lupin looked back and forth between them.

"You both have accomplished a lot for your age," he told them evenly. They frowned at him dubiously. "Really. Harry, consistently producing even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement for a thirteen-year-old-wizard—and Chrys, you haven't passed out once, that shows an admirable amount of mental fortitude." Chrys and Harry exchanged a 'meh' sort of look. "Also, we've only had a couple of lessons. You've improved a lot in a short period of time. Harry, if the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," Harry recalled.

"I have complete confidence in you," Lupin told him, smiling. Harry smiled weakly back. Chrys wanted to mention that Dumbledore would probably be on alert this time too—but she didn't want to ruin their moment. "Here, you two have earned a drink—something from the Three Broomsticks." Chrys frowned, wondering for a moment if he meant something alcoholic. She didn't like the way drinking seemed to affect people. Luckily, Lupin only pulled out some butterbeer. She relaxed. "You won't have tried it before—"

"Butterbeer!" Harry said excitedly. "Yeah, I like that stuff!" Lupin raised an eyebrow. Chrys gave Harry a look. "Oh, Ron and Hermione brought us some back from Hogsmeade," he lied quickly.

"I see." Lupin didn't look like he believed him. "Well—let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw!" He waved his hand in a flustered manner. "Not that I'm supposed to take sides as a teacher…" He hastily took a large gulp of his drink. Chrys grinned.

It was a comfortable silence, sitting together and drinking their butterbeer.

Then Harry had to go and ruin it.

"What's under a dementor's hood?"

"Hmm… well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us," Lupin said thoughtfully. "You see, the dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"The soul sucking thing," Chrys guessed. Her stomach churned. She put down her drink.

Lupin nodded. "They call it the Dementor's Kiss." His lips twisted into a grimace. "It's what the dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and—and suck out his soul."

Harry spat out his butterbeer. Chrys thought he deserved that for asking the question in the first place. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"The—the victim… what's a person like, without their soul?"

"The book made it sound like a coma… like in a muggle hospital, when a machine is keeping someone alive, but they don't respond to any—any, what's it called—external stimuli?" Chrys recalled. Harry's brow furrowed.

"Yes, similar to that," Lupin agreed. "For most people, a fate worse than death. You can exist without your soul, as long as your brain and heart are still working… but you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no… anything."

"And there's no known cure," Chrys remembered.

"You'll just—exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever… lost." Lupin took a slow sip of his drink. "It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the _Daily Prophet _this morning." Chrys thought she really ought to start reading the paper more regularly. "The Ministry have given the dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

"Does anyone… anyone really deserve something like that?" Chrys wondered. Harry was silent for a moment, sitting very still.

"I think so," he said, his voice cold.

"You think so?" Lupin studied him. "Really?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "For… for some things."

And Chrys could tell he was thinking about telling Lupin about what had happened in the Three Broomsticks—the conversation they had overheard…

"I reckon he would've understood," Chrys said as they walked back to the tower alone.

"Hmm?" Harry looked at her.

"Professor Lupin—I think he would've understood, if you wanted to tell him about… about what we heard in Hogsmeade."

"Yeah, but then we'd have to tell him we snuck into Hogsmeade," Harry pointed out.

Chrys shrugged. "He seems nice."

"He's still a teacher," Harry reminded her. "Besides, I wouldn't want to have to explain the map, and get Fred and George in trouble."

"True." Chrys went quiet.

"Oof!" Harry said. Chrys looked up to see he had literally bumped into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs.

"Do watch where you're going, Potter!"

"Sorry, Professor."

"I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room," she told him. "Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all. You've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter…"

Harry's mouth fell open as she passed him back the Firebolt.

"I can have it back?" He asked, his voice small. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Professor McGonagall repeated. She smiled at him. "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter—_do_ try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night…" Chrys would've laughed, except for the very serious expression on their teacher's face. Harry was shocked into silence.

"Say: thank you, Professor,'" Chrys muttered, elbowing his side.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry repeated mechanically. Professor McGonagall smiled again.

"Now, off to the common room with you. I daresay Mr. Weasley will want to celebrate."

They didn't need to be told twice.

A crowd of Gryffindors gathered around Harry in the common room to admire his broom. Chrys rolled her eyes and pulled off to the side. Then she spotted Neville, who was sitting in a corner with his hands covering his face.

"Alright there, Nev?" She asked gently.

"No," Neville groaned. "I got Sir Cadogan to tell me all his passwords ahead of time..."

"Well, that's an idea," Chrys thought. She knew he'd been having trouble with the clumsy knight changing the passwords so often.

"…And then I lost the parchment where I wrote them down," Neville finished miserably.

"Oh." Chrys tilted her head. "Well… I'm sure you'll think of another solution to your problem. You're cleverer than you think, Neville."

"If you say so," Neville said, not sounding as if he believed her in the slightest. "I think I'll just go to bed early." It wasn't too early. The crowd around Harry was beginning to disperse.

Harry and Ron were joining Hermione and her stacks of books. Chrys quickly followed.

"I got it back." Harry held the broom up to her. He grinned at her, while she just looked back at him dully.

"See, Hermione?" Ron plowed on. "There wasn't anything wrong with it!"

"Well—there _might _have been!" Hermione maintained. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"

"Yeah, I suppose so…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, I'll just… I'd better put it upstairs, and then, if you need any help with anything…" He gestured at the parchment and books built like a fortress around her.

Chrys wasn't sure what help Harry could be with the homework (except for Defense, which he really did have a knack for), but she recognized the gesture as an olive branch. Hermione must have too, because her gaze softened.

Ron looked between Harry and Hermione. "I'll take it up," he offered, gesturing at the broom. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic." Harry handed it over.

Chrys laughed as Ron carried it upstairs like it was made of porcelain. Then she looked at Harry and Hermione. "Can I sit down?" Harry asked slowly.

"I suppose so." Hermione smiled hesitantly at him. Chrys cleared her throat. They blinked at her.

"Well, I'll just… go over there, then." She motioned vaguely. "I've got… things… to do…" She heard Harry and Hermione laughing as she left. Well, good. She wanted to give them some time to reconnect, and if laughing at her awkwardness could help them along their way—then, good.

Ginny spotted her and waved her over.

"I see Harry and Hermione are making up."

Chrys smiled, glancing over her shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good." Ginny nodded. "Hermione's been looking worn out lately. She could use some more support from her friends." Chrys' smile faded.

"Yeah, I noticed that. Ron and I were thinking something weird is going on with her."

"Speaking of my darling brother, are he and Hermione going to get along any time soon?"

"Well, if Harry—"

But Chrys was interrupted as Ron came stomping and roaring into the room.

"Look!" He screamed, holding up a bed sheet to Hermione's face.

Her eyes went wide. "Ron, what—?"

"Scabbers! Look! Scabbers!"

Hermione leaned away from Ron as Harry got a closer look at the sheet.

Ginny stiffened. "Is that… blood?" She and Chrys quickly moved towards the others.

"He's gone!" Ron continued at the top of his lungs. "And you know what was on the floor?"

"N-No." Hermione was trembling. Harry automatically angled himself slightly between her and Ron.

Ron threw a handful of something onto Hermione's pile of parchment.

It was ginger cat fur.

"Oh dear," Ginny said, in what Chrys thought was a bit of an understatement.


	13. Of a Party and a Password

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting this up a day early cause tomorrow is gonna be crazy. Also, I keep getting sick. Please stay healthy, people.

"It's your bloody cat's fur!" Ron shouted at Hermione. Hermione pursed her lips.

"That could've been left in your dorm since Christmas," she pointed out, as always, logically. Ron didn't have much patience for logic at the moment.

"Your cat kept threatening Scabbers, but you never took it seriously! You never kept an eye out!"

"Crookshanks is completely innocent," Hermione insisted, standing up and pushing past Harry, who looked somewhat relieved to no longer be standing in-between them. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You've been prejudiced against him ever since he jumped on your head at the shop!"

"Yeah, well, I've got to trust my gut, haven't I?" Ron figured. He whirled on Harry. "What do you think?"

"Er, well…" He eyed Hermione warily. "You did say yourself, cats chase rats—it's part of their nature. And the hairs, and the blood do sort of suggest that Crookshanks might've—"

Hermione huffed. "You've got no proof! All circumstantial."

Harry laughed nervously. "Um, this isn't one of the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures cases we've been reading about, Hermione."

"Ugh! Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!" Her voice was ridiculously high pitched by now. "First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it? Just leave me alone, Harry, I've got a lot of work to do!"

"…You can stop hiding behind me now," Ginny told Chrys.

"Sorry." Chrys stepped out from behind her, eyeing Hermione running up the stairs to the girls' dorm.

"Well… I reckon that's the end of their friendship forever," Harry said morosely, as Ron sunk into the couch, staring dully at his bloody sheet. Chrys would normally say Harry was being overly pessimistic.

"Come on, Ron," Fred said, as he, George and Lee Jordan joined them. "You were always saying how boring Scabbers was. And he's been off-color for ages. He was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly—one swallow—he probably didn't feel a thing." Chrys glared at him. "What?"

"Fred!" Ginny said sharply. She patted Ron on the shoulder.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," George said gently.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said defensively. "Right?" He glanced from Harry to Chrys.

"Yes, that's true," Chrys and Harry said in unison.

"His finest hour." Fred's lips twitched. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory." Ron groaned. "Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?" Chrys frowned. If Hedwig died, she couldn't imagine just getting over it and buying a new owl.

"I get it, Ron," Lee told him. "Just the other day, I was wondering where my pet tarantula got to. He's been missing for years… maybe he'll turn up in the castle one day."

This did nothing to soothe Ron. "Hey, why don't you come along for practice?" Harry said quickly to Ron. "Then afterwards you can have a ride on the Firebolt!"

"Really?" Ron said hopefully. Harry nodded. "Great!" He smiled weakly. "Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?"

"Right." George glanced at his watch. "We'd better get going, then." Fred grinned.

"Wait till Oliver sees you've got your broom back, Harry."

"Ah, yes." George nodded. "I can see him now—thanking every person he's ever met for the circumstances that have led up to this very moment."

"Didn't you want to have a go on the Firebolt?" Chrys asked Ginny after the common room had mostly cleared out. Ginny frowned.

"Well, yes, of course… but I don't want anybody to see me fly until I'm good enough to fly circles around them. If I'm anything less than awesome, they'll probably say it's cause I'm a girl," she figured. Chrys shook her head.

"There are loads of girls on the Gryffindor team, I don't think they would ever judge you for that… Hey, would you ever try out for the team?" She wondered.

"Not until I'm better," Ginny said firmly.

Hermione was pretending to be asleep when Chrys came up to the dorm. Having employed this tactic several times herself, Chrys didn't bother her.

It wasn't much better the next morning. Hermione was gone before she woke up. Chrys spent most of breakfast looking for her before hurrying down to the pitch. She rushed past Padma on her way down the hill.

"Good luck," Padma shouted after her, waving a little blue flag.

Dean and Seamus waved her over.

"Almost missed the start of the match, Chrys," Seamus scolded her.

"Have you seen Hermione?" She asked, somewhat breathlessly. Dean and Seamus exchanged a look. Chrys had no doubt the whole castle was aware of Ron and Hermione's fight by now.

"No, sorry," Dean said.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle.

Both teams took off into the air.

"So cool," Seamus said, watching Harry speed around the pitch. Lee, who was the commentator for the match, agreed.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to _Witch Broomstick_, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship—"

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?" Professor McGonagall's voice interrupted through the microphone. Dean chuckled.

"Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of background information—the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and—"

"Jordan!"

"I wouldn't have minded hearing more about the broom," Seamus said disappointedly, as Lee started his regular commentary. Dean grinned.

"Yeah, like you have memorized all the stats already?"

Seamus turned slightly pink under his freckles.

Throughout the rest of the game, Chrys distractedly watched Harry and the other players flit about. Her eyes kept drifting to the crowd of spectators, trying to spot Hermione. She couldn't imagine that her best friend wouldn't show up to the match. Harry had been so excited to play…

"Oi! What's that?" Seamus said worriedly, standing up. There were several cloaked figures moving across the field. Chrys pulled out her wand and scrambled to the edge of the stands. She could hear Seamus and Dean following her, but was more concentrated on summoning up a happy memory.

Harry beat her to it. She could see him pointing his wand. Something large and silvery shot out of it, chasing the cloaked figures across the field. Chrys was shocked and proud to see the Patronus wasn't at all indistinct like Harry's previous attempts. In fact, his Patronus looked rather like a silver deer.

Harry ignored his own spectacular magic and continued zooming forward on his broom. His hand stretched out. The crowd cheered. Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, signifying the end of the game.

Harry landed on the pitch, shortly followed by the rest of the team. His teammates were shouting in glory, gathering around to hug him.

Chrys wasn't paying much attention to all of this. She had seen one of the cloaked figures trip as it ran from the stag. She frowned. Dementors didn't trip, or run, come to think of it.

"_Alohamora!" _She unlocked the gate leading down onto the pitch and ran forward. Several spectators, led by Ron, raced over to congratulate Harry. Chrys veered off to where two of the cloaked figures were helping a third back onto his feet. "Draco Malfoy!" She roared.

Malfoy froze. He and Goyle were tangled in a single long black cloak. From the height of the cloaked figures, Chrys guessed Malfoy had been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Crabbe and Marcus Flint the Slytherin team captain, were in a similar position to the left.

"Potter." Malfoy tried to sneer, but tripped again on his cloak.

"How dare you!" She pointed her wand at him. "I don't care what you think of my brother—dementors are not something to be made light of!"

"I quite agree," a stern voice said from behind them. Chrys turned to see Professor McGonagall's expression of utmost fury. She didn't blame Malfoy for becoming even paler than usual and trying to inch backwards. "An unworthy trick! A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin!"

Chrys stopped listening at this point, figuring Professor McGonagall had this well in hand. Instead she shoved through the crowd to give Harry a thumb's up.

Ron and Harry had been watching Professor McGonagall, and were roaring in laughter at the expression on Malfoy's face.

"Come on, Harry!" George shouted from somewhere in the crowd. "Party! Gryffindor common room! Now!"

"Right." Harry was smiling more brightly than Chrys had ever seen him.

The students and teachers filed en masse up to the castle. Chrys lagged towards the edge of the crowd, falling into step with Professor Lupin when she spotted him.

"So, I guess those lessons are really paying off!" She said brightly. He smiled back at her.

"Well, Harry is an excellent student," he said. "And you as well, Chrys," he added quickly. She shrugged.

"Well, I am in most cases… At any rate, I'm not giving up, I'll keep working at it."

"Good." Lupin looked pleased.

"About Harry's Patronus," Chrys said slowly. "I was wondering… was it just me, or did it look a bit like a deer?"

"Ah…" Lupin gazed across the grounds at the Whomping Willow. "I suppose it did."

"Okay…" Chrys said slowly, choosing to ignore his weird reaction, for now. "I didn't know Patronuses—Patroni? —Could be shaped like animals."

"Patroni," Lupin told her. "And yes, they can be. It's called a corporeal Patronus. They're very rare, actually. The shape is said to represent the… personality of the spell caster. Or, something close to their heart."

"Represent the personality…" Chrys repeated thoughtfully. "I wonder if I should do some research on animal symbolism…" Lupin smiled a bit.

"You and Hermione seem to enjoy doing research," he commented. Chrys frowned. "Something wrong with Hermione?" Lupin guessed.

"Ah… sort of, I don't know," Chrys said uncomfortably.

"Well, you don't have to tell me about it," Lupin said gently. "But I am here to listen, if you like." They had reached the entrance hall. Chrys nodded slowly.

"I think I'd like that."

"If you don't mind missing some of the party, we could have lunch," Lupin suggested. Chrys blinked. "I don't recall seeing you at breakfast."

"Oh, I was…busy…" Chrys frowned.

"Tell me about it in a minute," Lupin said.

The Great Hall was mostly empty. Chrys figured many of the Hufflepuff students were trying to sneak into the Gryffindor after-party, while the Ravenclaw and Slytherin students were probably sulking in their dorms. There were a couple of people scattered about.

Professor Sprout was chatting with Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott down at the Hufflepuff table, rather than sitting at the professors' table as usual.

Lupin also made a beeline to sit at the Gryffindor table with Chrys. She wasn't surprised to see the nearly the whole house missing except for what looked like three seventh years feverishly studying.

Chrys studied them, thinking they looked rather like Hermione.

"Have some food," Lupin urged, holding up a basket of bread. Whoever made the meal seemed to have noticed the lack of people around. Lunch was a more casual spread. Jars of mustard, platters of thinly sliced meat, and pitchers of pumpkin juice were lined up on the table. Chrys put together and nibbled on the crust of a ham sandwich.

"That's part of her problem—Hermione, I mean," she said, motioning at the studying older students.

"…I have noticed she seems rather worn out lately," Lupin admitted. 'You're one to talk,' Chrys would like to say, but it seemed a bit imprudent towards a teacher, even one as nice as Professor Lupin. "Perhaps she should talk to Professor McGonagall—maybe drop a class?" Chrys shook her head.

"That's what Harry suggested, but I think Hermione took it as some kind of personal insult." She wrinkled her nose at the pickles Lupin offered. "Besides, I don't want to run to Professor McGonagall… it seems like tattling somehow, to go to a teacher."

"You told me," Lupin said, sounding amused.

"Right." Chrys lowered her sandwich, feeling a little guilty. "…But you won't lecture Hermione about it or anything, right?"

"… I suppose not," Lupin said. "I was never very good at telling people not to do something."

Chrys laughed. "Then why'd you become a teacher?" She wondered. Lupin frowned. "Not that you aren't good at it—you're great," Chrys added hurriedly. Lupin laughed.

"Thank you, Chrys."

"I mean, like that. You call all of us by our first names. Stuff like that makes you less intimidating than some of the other teachers," she explained. Lupin nodded slowly.

"Well, regardless, I thought we were here to talk about you and Hermione, not me."

Chrys sighed. "Yeah, yeah…" She ran her hand through her hair. Lupin looked at her, smiling slightly. "You've probably heard of Ron and Hermione's big row by now."

"The Hogwarts rumor mill has always been impressive."

"I'm just afraid Ron and Hermione will never speak again. It's like we've regressed to first year," she grumbled.

"How so?"

"They hated each other then," Chrys explained.

"And what happened to change that?" Lupin wondered.

"Well…" Chrys tapped her foot under the table. "There was this incident with a troll…" Lupin frowned, concerned. "Oh, no one was hurt." She waved her hand. "Anyway, it was a sort of 'friendship forged in fire' thing. Do you think they'll ever make amends?"

Lupin considered. "All I know… is some things are unforgivable, while other things only _feel_ unforgivable at the time. Give it another couple of weeks," he suggested.

"I guess." Chrys was disappointed. Somehow she'd thought he'd have a 'magical' solution to the whole problem.

"How about you?" Lupin asked. She blinked at him. "How are you doing? In the anti-dementor lessons you've been a bit… quiet, subdued."

"…It's the boggart," she admitted after a moment. "What if it shows up again?"

"It's okay to be afraid," Lupin assured her. "Especially of something like that."

"Yeah, but nobody else had that sort of boggart in class," she said. "I mean, I would've thought my greatest fear was heights… but maybe that's too… abstract for a boggart to do?" Lupin looked thoughtful. "It's just… nobody else seems to have a major fear of their family… well, dying. I mean, I know Harry and I haven't had the safest of lives, but—"

"What do you mean by that?" Lupin asked sharply. Chrys shrunk back.

"Oh, nothing really."

Lupin seemed to notice her distress. "More trolls?" He joked.

"No, not really." Well, there was that one towards the end of first year, but Quirrel had already taken care of it. She took a breath. "Just, ah… Voldemort stuff. You mentioned the rumor mill… so probably you heard something about what happened to my friend Ginny last year, and what happened with the Sorcerer's Stone in first year."

"Bits and pieces," Lupin grunted. Chrys chewed at the inside of her cheek.

"Well, _that's_ something I'm not to comfortable talking about in detail," she told him. His eyes had darkened. His hand clenched around his goblet, knuckles going white. She stiffened. "I'm sorry," she added quickly. "If you'd really like to know more, I'll bet Professor Dumbledore knows things. He usually does."

"Yes." Lupin pursed his lips.

"Yeah, so… please don't be angry with me," she said in a rush. Lupin blinked at her.

"Oh. Chrys, I'm not angry with you at all," he said gently. She frowned.

"You look angry."

"I'm angry that two thirteen-year-olds have apparently had to risk their lives over and over again. No wonder your boggart…" They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then he caught her eye. "Chrys, you should never have had to go through any of that."

"It wasn't so bad," she said quietly. "I mean, I've got Hermione, who's great at spells and research. Ron always has my back, and he's full of good ideas. And Harry… he knows just how to react in the moment. Like, when most people would freeze up, he moves forward."

"And yourself?" Lupin asked.

She straightened up, flipping her hair back. "I'm the pretty one, of course," she joked. Lupin let out a kind of snort. She stared at him. "What?"

"Oh… it's only… that's rather like something your father would have said." He grinned at her. She smiled back, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Maybe… one time you could tell me more about them? —My parents, I mean."

"Well… maybe another time," he said noncommittally. "For now, you should be getting up to Gryffindor Tower, before you completely miss the festivities."

"Right."

She had missed the bulk of the after-party. The crowd was starting to thin out when she climbed through the portrait hole.

"Saved you some licorice wands," Harry said, handing over a handful. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Fred and George snuck over to Honeydukes." She smiled weakly. He frowned. "You alright? Malfoy didn't scare you too much, did he?"

She snorted. "Not at all. He's the one who looked about ready to wet himself when Professor McGonagall caught him."

"Yeah, he did," Harry said happily. Chrys looked around. She saw Ron and Seamus eagerly recounting the match over bottles of butterbeer. Lavender, Ginny, and a few other people Chrys didn't know appeared to be arguing about fashion versus functionality of Quidditch robes. Parvati was teasing Padma, who was pouting and refusing to take off her Ravenclaw scarf.

"Have you seen Hermione?"

"Yeah." Harry's smile faded. "She came to the game at least… but she's really running herself ragged, Chrys."

"I know. I tried to talk to Professor Lupin about it, but there's really nothing they can do unless Hermione drops a class—which, of course, she won't do."

"Of course," Harry agreed. He studied her. "You had a chat with Lupin?"

"Yeah. We had lunch downstairs. He noticed I didn't have breakfast." She chewed at a licorice wand before shoving the rest in her pocket. Harry was looking at her weirdly. "What?"

"Nothing… you just seem to like him a lot."

"I guess I do," she acknowledged. "He just seems… a lot more approachable than the other professors, you know? I really feel like I can trust him."

"Hmm…" Harry stared down at the muddy Quidditch boots he still hadn't changed out of. "You don't, er, you don't fancy him or anything like that, right? Because, he's quite old—I mean, he went to school with our parents, and—"

Chrys burst out in laughter. "No, Harry. It's not like that." Her nose wrinkled. "Anyway, who would ever fancy a teacher?"

"Half the school was swooning after Lockhart last year," he reminded her. "Including Hermione…" They both frowned.

"I thought she'd still be studying," Chrys said, looking around again. "Is she finally getting some rest?"

"I don't know… Ron said something about Scabbers and she ran up the stairs crying," Harry said quietly. Chrys groaned. "Are you going up to talk to her?"

"I think she probably just wants to be alone right now," Chrys figured. "I'll go say hi to Padma."

"Okay." Harry glanced over at the stairs to the girls' dorms again, before going back to join Ron.

Chrys fell asleep in the common room, amongst empty butterbeer bottles and sweets wrappers.

For a moment, she was confused as to why she'd woken up.

Then she saw that all the Gryffindor boys in her year were running down the steps. Harry was first, brandishing his wand. Ron was second. His steps were shaky, his freckles stood out on his paling face.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Chrys asked sleepily. Seamus shook his head.

"Ron said Sirius Black was leaning over him with a knife." He sounded just as confused as she felt.

"Are you _sure_ you weren't dreaming, Ron?" Dean asked gently.

"I'm telling you, I saw him!" Ron shouted.

"His bed curtains were all torn," Seamus said thoughtfully.

"Black must've known Ron's screaming would wake everyone up and made a run for it," Harry thought. Still, he hadn't put away his wand. He and Chrys shared a look. If Sirius Black had been in the boys' dorm… perhaps he'd gotten the wrong bed? And in that case, why didn't he just kill Ron to silence him?

Not that Chrys wasn't thankful. She followed Harry's lead and took out her wand as well. She moved next to Ron, looking around suspiciously.

"What's all the noise?" Katie Bell asked, yawning as she came down the stairs. Her dorm mates and fellow chasers, Alicia Spinet and Angelina Johnson followed behind.

"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!" Alicia reminded them.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" Fred asked, joining them. Angelina shrugged.

Chrys frowned. "Actually, Ron said he—"

"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy hollered, pining his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he raced down the stairs.

"Ron, tell him," Chrys urged. Harry gave him an encouraging nod.

"Perce—Sirius Black!" Ron said. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

George stopped in the middle of telling Lee a joke about flobberworms. The rest of the gathering crowd grew silent as well.

"…Nonsense!" Percy squeaked out. "You had too much to eat, Ron—had a nightmare—"

Ron glared. "I'm telling you—"

"Now, really, enough is enough!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy said. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"

"It wasn't a nightmare!" Ron shouted at the top of his lungs. "Professor, I woke up, and Sirius Black was standing over me, holding a knife!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" Ron said, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's portrait. "Ask him if he saw—"

Professor McGonagall marched over and opened the portrait. It was as if the whole room was holding its breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!"

"You—you _did?"_ Professor McGonagall stuttered. Chrys had never heard her stutter. "But—but the password!"

"He had 'em," Sir Cadogan told her, nodding to himself. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Chrys had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She tried very hard not to look to her left, where Neville had suddenly frozen stiff.

"Which person…" Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. "Which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

To his credit, Neville stepped forward with his hand raised.

As he trembled in his fluffy pink slippers, Chrys thought he had never seemed more like a Gryffindor.


	14. Of Security and Sorry

Chrys was glad she'd gotten a couple of hours of sleep earlier that night, because there was no way any of them were settling down now.

The whole house sat together in the common room, waiting until Professor McGonagall returned.

She didn't bother to lecture them about staying up.

"I regret to inform you that Sirius Black has escaped the castle yet again," she told them. "Do try and avoid doing anything foolish…" She gave Neville a pointed look at that. He gulped. "However, I don't think you should be afraid of going back to sleep." She looked at Ron at that. Ginny was curled up on the couch next to him while Percy had his shoulders in a vice-like grip. Fred and George stopped pacing, letting out tired sighs. Chrys glanced out the window. The sun was just rising. "We are putting extra security in place, particularly in front of Gryffindor Tower."

When they left for breakfast later that morning, Chrys saw what Professor McGonagall had meant.

Filch was running up and down corridors with a hammer, nails, and boards of wood. He boarded up every crack in the castle walls. Chrys was uncomfortably reminded of the time Uncle Vernon had boarded up the mail slot on the front door of Number 4.

"Look at that," Harry said, nudging her as they waited for Ron to finish talking to a group of curious second year girls. The Fat Lady was back, accompanied by two grumpy security trolls, the size of Hagrid. "I guess Sir Cadgon's been fired."

"Can't say I feel much sympathy," Chrys admitted. "Although…" One of the trolls looked down at them, squinting and threateningly swinging his club. "This lot isn't too great either."

"Well, she's frightened," Harry said of the Fat Lady. "It makes sense to give her some extra security."

"And speaking of security," he said later. "Have you noticed they haven't posted any guards in front of the statue of the humpbacked witch?" Chrys frowned. "Think we ought to tell someone?"

"We know he's not coming in through Honeyduke's. We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into," Ron reasoned. Harry looked relieved. Chrys didn't share the feeling, but after two days passed free of Black, she began to calm down.

Neville had no such luck. Over the past two days he'd been banned from Hogsmeade, given detention, and forbidden from knowing any of the passwords into Gryffindor Tower. Chrys and Parvati did their best to wait for him in the hallway so he could come in with them… but no one wanted to stand around the security trolls for so long.

Then during breakfast, Neville received a howler. Ron recognized the scarlet envelope, having received one from his mother last year.

"Run for it, Neville," Ron suggested. Neville bolted. The Slytherins roared in laughter as the envelope exploded—the sound of Neville grandmother's furious admonishments echoed through the Entrance Hall.

"Poor Neville," Harry thought as Ron nodded sympathetically.

"Oh…" Chrys untied a letter from Hedwig's leg. "Hagrid wants to see us for tea tonight." Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers absentmindedly, sighing as he scanned Hagrid's note.

"_Wait for me in the Entrance Hall. You're not allowed out on your own_," he read.

"Well, can you blame him—after what happened to this one?" Chrys said, jerking her thumb at Ron.

"He probably wants to hear all about Black!" Ron said excitedly. He'd gotten to be a pro at recounting the story by now. Chrys rolled her eyes.

"All right, Hagrid!" Ron said as they entered his home. "S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?"

"I've already heard all abou' it," Hagrid said.

"Oh." Ron looked slightly disappointed, but Chrys had little attention to spare for him.

She had spotted Buckbeak, sitting on a blanket in the corner, munching happily on dead ferrets.

Chrys had completely forgotten about the research they were supposed to do for Buckbeak's trial.

"What are they for, Hagrid?" Harry asked, more focused on the furry brown suit and yellow tie hanging up on the back of a chair.

"The trial, I bet," Chrys said quietly.

"Oh…" Harry winced.

"Yeah." Hagrid sighed. "This Friday. Beaky an' I'll be going down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus…."

"Maybe take an anti-nausea potion before hand," Chrys told him, remembering he got motion sick like she did. Hagrid nodded as he set up a pot of tea and some bath buns. Ron carefully pushed the plate away. Hagrid's cooking was about the only food Ron refused.

"I got somethin' ter discuss with you three," Hagrid said, in a more serious tone than Chrys was used to from him.

"What?" Harry said warily.

"Hermione."

Chrys shuffled uncomfortably. She swore she'd heard Hermione crying in the dorm bathroom yesterday, but when she called out there was no response.

"What about her?" Ron scoffed. Chrys frowned and elbowed him.

"She's in a righ' state, that's what," Hagrid confirmed. "She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because o' the Firebolt, now yer not talkin' to her because her cat—"

"—ate Scabbers!" Ron finished angrily.

"Because her cat acted like all cats do," Hagrid said matter o' fact.

"But I tried to talk to her loads of times," Chrys said. "And Harry's tried to make up with her at least once." Harry sighed.

"Well, I could've made more of an effort," he admitted.

Ron muttered something under his breath.

"If she's lonely then how come she's been avoiding me?" Chrys thought aloud.

"She said somethin' about how she didn't want to make it awkward between yeh two and Ron," Hagrid told her, gesturing at Ron and then the twins. "Yeh know, she's cried a fair few times. Goin' through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin ter do—"

"But she won't let me help her!" Chrys interjected, frustrated. "She won't drop any classes, and since she's not talking to me, how am I supposed to help her with her essays and stuff?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Chrys, yeh can't force help on anybody," he told her. "Sometimes the best thing yeh can do for a person is jus' listen… and yeh have to wait til they come to yeh fer it." Chrys crossed her arms and let out a huff. Hagrid gave her a pat on the shoulder that made her buckle in her chair. "… She's still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind… She's found some really god stuff fer me… reckon he'll stand a good chance now…"

"Hagrid, we should've helped as well—sorry—" Harry began, as Chrys nodded furiously.

"I'm not blamin' yeh!" Hagrid cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be getting' on with. Harry, I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch ev'ry hour o' the day an night—And Chrys, I know yeh've been trying to talk to her, but yeh can't do it on yer own. If these two decide they value yer friend more then broomsticks and rats, well…"

Harry and Ron exchanged an uncomfortable look. Chrys felt torn between bursting into tears and yelling at them until they relented. She compromised by taking a large gulp of tea and glaring at them over the rim of her cup. Hagrid looked at Ron. "Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you two not tlakin' to her—"

"If she'd get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron growled.

"Ron!" Chrys said sharply. "Asking her to get rid of Crookshanks would be like asking you to get rid of Scabbers—"

"Yeah, well Crookshanks took care of that already, didn't he?" Ron said. Chrys grimaced. "Anyway, Chrys, I've had Scabbers for much longer, and he's the victim in all this! That cat is a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"

"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets," Hagrid thought. Harry glanced at Buckbeak, who was now making a pile of crunched up bones on Hagrid's bed.

Chrys nearly drifted off in the warmth of Hagrid's hut while he and the boys discussed the next Quidditch match in desperately boring detail.

By the time they got back to the common room, she was yawning and considering taking an actual nap.

Ron had other plans. He made a beeline for the crowd hovering around the bulletin board.

"Hogsmeade, next weekend!" He announced, his height enabling him to see over the crowd. Harry frowned thoughtfully, moving to sit on Chrys' favorite window seat. Chrys and Ron followed. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. "What d'you reckon?"

"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes," Harry said quietly.

"Yeah, but it's not like we had a great time there last time," Chrys pointed out.

"We did before…" Harry swallowed. "Before The Three Broomsticks." Ron nodded.

"Yeah, don't pretend you weren't thinking of buying up all of Honeydukes' stock," he teased Chrys. She tilted her head.

"Well, not the _entire_ stock, but still… I don't know if we should go."

"I agree," a voice said behind them. Ron turned to glare at Hermione, who was clearing a window through her giant stack of books to be able to see them more clearly.

"Hermione…" Harry said tiredly.

"Harry," Hermione pressed. "If you go into Hogsmeade again…" She paused. "If you go into Hogsmeade again—I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!"

"Hermione!" Chrys hissed. "I'm not sure that's the best solution…"

"Oh, is Hermione here?" Ron said. "I didn't notice." He turned away pointedly from her. Hermione shrunk back. Chrys rolled her eyes.

"Ron, you aren't three years old, so stop acting like—"

Hermione straightened up again. "Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to _you_! I mean it, I'll tell—"

"So you're trying to get Harry expelled!" Ron said furiously. "Haven't you done enough damage this year?" Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Crookshanks jumping into her lap. Hermione took one look at Ron's venomous expression, shrunk back again and grabbed Crookshanks before disappearing up the dormitory stairs. "So, how about it?" Ron asked Harry. "Come on, last time we went you didn't see anything. You haven't been inside Zonko's yet! Chrys, you'd really like their muggle-wizard combo tricks. They have this spinning thing that—"

"How can you act like nothing's happened?" Chrys said, jumping to her feet. Ron frowned.

"I'm not. I'm just trying to make the best of it."

"Well maybe if you actually tried to solve the problem—"

"Oh, like she's doing such a great job? You said it yourself, getting you two expelled isn't the best solution."

"Yeah, but all of this started because she cares about us. She just wants us to be safe."

"Okay, so if Black doesn't get you, you'll die from boredom. Anyway, it's not as if the castle is any safer," Ron pointed out. Her shoulders slumped.

"He's got a point," Harry said quietly. "And… we could take the invisibility cloak this time."

"Fine." Chrys pulled off her cloak, melted snow splattering the red and gold carpet. "Do what you like."

She spent the rest of the week going back and forth about whether she should sneak into Hogsmeade or not. Normally she would ask Hermione's opinion, but Hermione wasn't really speaking to her… Padma and Ginny were good listeners, but they didn't know about the map. Fred and George knew about the map, but she wasn't sure they knew that Black was after her and Harry. They wouldn't know that Black had betrayed her parents. They couldn't know the depth of the situation.

Besides, Fred and George would likely agree with Ron, that boredom was just as lethal as Black's attempts.

The morning of, she decided not to go. Ron had a point—it wasn't like the castle was much safer, but she sort of… needed a break from him and Harry, as much as she loved them.

"Are you sure you won't come?" Harry asked as she walked him to the statue of the humpbacked witch.

"Don't worry, I won't tattle on you."

"I'm not worried about that…"

"Just keep an eye out. Even if it's in the middle of the day, and fairly crowded, Hogsmeade is out in the open. Black might have an easier time getting to you—"

"I'll keep an eye out," he assured her. He tapped his wand on the statue. "_Dissendium!" _The witch's hump slid open. He dropped his bag he turned, searching her face for something. "Just… you be careful too. I don't like leaving you alone… I mean, I know it's not as if the castle is empty, but still…"

She smiled sadly. "Well, you can't expect us to be attached at the hip forever."

"No, I suppose not." Harry looked back and forth. "So, I'll—" Chrys elbowed him.

"Neville!"

Harry quickly shoved the map in his pocket. Chrys pushed the entrance shut.

"Harry! Chrys! I forgot you two can't go to Hogsmeade either!" Neville said happily.

"Hi, Neville," Harry said. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." Neville shrugged. "Want a game of exploding snap?"

"Sure," Chrys said. "But Harry has some homework to do, so he'll join us later."

"I still haven't done that vampire essay for Lupin," Neville said thoughtfully. He smiled at Harry. "Want to study together?"

"Er, thanks, but I'll just do it on my own, Neville. Better focus that way," Harry, who had always been better working in groups, lied.

"All right." Neville slumped for a moment before brightening and turning to Chrys. "I know I said exploding snap, but have you finished your essay yet? I could really use help with the whole garlic thing. I don't get what—" He stopped suddenly, staring behind Harry.

Snape was walking down the hall towards them.

"What are you three doing here?" Snape asked suspiciously. "An odd place to meet—"

"We're not meeting here," Harry said hurriedly. "We just… met here."

"Indeed?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter."

"So do you," Chrys muttered under her breath.

"What was that, Potter?" He turned to her.

"Nothing," she said. "We'll get out of your… hair." She glanced at the greasiness of hair, wondering if he'd like to read that article Lavender had been talking about from _Witch_ _Weekly_.

Harry had to backtrack to the common room before he split off from Chrys and Neville, lying that he was heading off to the library.

Chrys wasn't as good at Harry at Defense Against the Dark Arts, or explaining things to people, but she did her best to help Neville with his essay.

Hermione was sitting not too far away, surrounded by books as usual. She kept glancing at Chrys, probably wondering where Harry was. Chrys would like to talk to her, but didn't have the energy to defend Harry's decision right now.

"Tell you what," Chrys said to Neville. "I'm having no luck with this garlic thing either. Why don't we go over to Professor Lupin's office and ask him?"

"Oh, I don't know." Neville frowned at the several crossed out lines on his essay. "I don't want to bother him…"

"He won't be bothered," Chrys said confidently. "Anyway, it's his job to help us understand this stuff, right? He's not like Snape, he wouldn't sneer at us for asking questions."

"Oh, all right," Neville said, still wary.

Chrys was right. Lupin welcomed them in warmly, offering tea and biscuits, and plenty of advice on the essay.

He and Chrys got into detailed discussion over vampire rights, which made Neville a bit sleepy. "Hey, Nev," Chrys said, elbowing him as he started to snore.

"What?" He jerked up straight. "I agree with Chrys," he said automatically. Lupin looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Er… vampires should have better access to more ethically sourced supplies of blood—that's what we were talking about—right?"

"We've moved on from that," Lupin said gently. "Anyway, you've made great progress on your essay, Neville. Why don't you go back to the common room and rest? An if you're still having trouble before it's due, I'll be glad to give you an extension. We can work on it again and you can turn it in on a later date."

"Oh, thanks very much, Professor," Neville said, letting out a sigh. "I think I will head back up to the Tower… Chrys?" He glanced at her.

"I think I'd like to talk to Professor Lupin a bit more…" She looked at him. "If you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Lupin said. Neville nodded.

"Right then, I'll see you later," he said to Chrys. "Thanks again, Professor."

Chrys and Lupin sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their tea as Neville shut the door.

"Hermione doing any better?" Lupin asked conversationally. Chrys frowned. "… I see. Well, maybe I should—" He was cut off suddenly, by the sound of Snape's voice echoing out of his fireplace.

"Lupin! I want a word!"

Chrys jumped, staring at the flames, which had turned an emerald green.

"Floo powder?" She wondered, putting down her mug to stand up and get a closer look.

"Indeed," Lupin said. He stood up as well. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, Chrys…" He paused, tilting his head. "Actually, I'm not certain how long Severus will need me. Perhaps you should head up to Gryffindor Tower. Your friends will be getting back from Hogsmeade shortly, anyway."

"I guess." Chrys reluctantly left Lupin's warm office, wondering what exactly Snape had wanted him for. She wondered if Harry had been right about Snape being up to something with Lupin.

And then she wondered how Harry and Ron had done in Hogsmeade.  
She had a sinking suspicion something had gone wrong.

Her suspicions were proven correct when Neville came running down the hallway towards her.

"Neville?" She blinked at him as he hunched over to catch his breath. "Are you all right? I thought you went back to the tower…"

"I did. Forgot…" He took a deep breath. "Forgot I'm not allowed to know the password."

"Oh." Chrys winced. "Sorry, me too. I'll walk back with you and—"

"No, time!" Neville said nervously. "I just saw Snape marching Harry to his office. He looked furious—Snape, I mean."

"Shit," Chrys muttered. Neville nodded in agreement. Something must have gone wrong in Hogsmeade… but then, where was Ron?

As if on cue, Ron came running down the hall towards them.

"Chrys, Neville?" He frowned at them. "Have you seen Harry?"

"Snape's got him," Chrys said. She glanced at Neville. "Thanks for letting us know, Neville, we'll take it from here." Neville hesitated. "You'd better stay clear. Snape never needs much of an excuse to punish you."

"Right." Neville grimaced and waved them off as they rushed to Snape's office.

"What happened?" Chrys said, slightly less breathless than Ron. The exercise she and Ginny had been doing since the start of the school year must be finally catching on.

"Malfoy was being a git. Harry threw some mud at him. The cloak slipped off his head. Malfoy saw his head—freaked out. He must have told Snape that Harry was in Hogsmeade. Harry rushed back here, but—"

"I hope Snape didn't see the passageway," Chrys thought. They paused in front of Snape's door. They could hear frustrated voices arguing within. "Lupin's in there… hopefully defending Harry."

"Yeah, but Snape's not exactly fond of Lupin," Ron pointed out. "He might need back up."

"Good point." Chrys stared warily at the door.

"Nothing for it," Ron said, turning the handle. They burst in. Snape was glowering at the Marauder's Map, sitting on the table next to a bunch of products labeled: Zonko's Joke Shop.

"Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley, what are you doing here?" Snape hissed.

"Oh… I was talking with Lupin when you called him," Chrys said. "So… I was just wondering what was taking so long. I figured I'd come see if everything was alright."

"Miss Potter, this in none of your business," Snape told her. "Your brother has been seen in Hogsmeade, against the rules." His eyes narrowed. "Were you there with him?"

"No," Chrys said honestly. "And besides, what proof have you got that Harry was in Hogsmeade? You know how vigilant Filch is—there's no way Harry would get pass him."

Snape pursed his lips. "I'm sure Mr. Potter has his ways."

"What ways?" Chrys raised an eyebrow. Snape said nothing. "Well then…" Chrys reached out and took hold of Harry's muddy sleeve. "We'll just be leaving—"

"These Zonko products," Snape cut her off. "And this suspicious map. Mr. Potter could have purchased them today—"

"Could have," Chrys cut him off. "But he didn't." She looked at Ron.

"That's right, I bought that stuff for Harry ages ago," Ron said, nodding furiously. Snape frowned.

"This too, Mr. Weasley?" He held up the map. Chrys stared at it. The map was clear away, leaving it looking like an old piece of parchment again—but there was writing across it, from the creators of the map…

_Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business._ That handwriting looked familiar somehow…_  
Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git. _This handwriting was the same as the writing on the map had been._  
Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor. _So, whoever Padfoot was, he had known Snape before he became a professor?__  
Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slime-ball.

Chrys snorted. Snape glared at her.

"Just a bit of trick parchment," Ron said.

"What—" Snape started.

"Well!" Lupin clapped his hands together, smiling brightly. "That seems to clear it up. Harry wasn't in Hogsmeade, and the parchment is from Zonko's, and has nothing to do with dark magic." He put one hand on Harry's shoulder, and the other on Chrys'. "Miss Potter and I had better finish our conversation. Good day, Severus." They left before Snape could say anything else. Ron let out a breath. As they reached the staircase, Harry gave Lupin a grateful nod and went to climb up. Lupin gripped his shoulder for a moment before letting go. "Just one moment, Harry."

"Professor, I—"

Lupin shook his head. "I don't want to hear excuses." He glanced around the hall before continuing. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago." Harry and Ron's eyes widened. "Yes, I know it's a map." Chrys pretended to be very interested in her shoelaces. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, _astounded _that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying about." Chrys wilted at the disappointment in his voice. "And I can't let you have it back, Harry."

Harry nodded in acceptance. Then he took a deep breath.

"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"

Chrys blinked. "What's that?"

Ron looked interested as well. Harry shrugged, still looking at Lupin.

"Because…" Lupin hesitated. "Because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you _know _them?" Harry sounded impressed.

"We've met," Lupin said shortly. He frowned as he studied Harry. "Don't make me cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously—" Chrys was too sad to even point out the pun. "—But I would have thought what you have heard when the dementors drawn near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep the two of you alive. A poor way to repay them—gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

"We do take it seriously," Chrys said quietly. Lupin just shook his head and walked away. Her chest hurt… but she was too drained to even cry.

"It's my fault," Ron said after a while. "I persuaded you to go, Harry. Lupin's right, it was stupid. We shouldn't have done it." Chrys smiled weakly at him.

"Hey, you're finally growing up, Ronniekins."

"Don't call me that, Chrysanthemum," he grunted, but he smiled tentatively back at her.

Chrys sighed. "I only wish Lupin wasn't so disappointed in us… it feels… horrible."

"Yeah, it does," Harry agreed. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Sorry for dragging you into this."

"Hey, your problems will always be my problems, whether or not either of us like it." She grimaced. "Now let go of me before you get me all muddy." Harry grinned and smeared some mud on her sleeve as she laughed and swatted him away. "How'd you get so filthy anyway?"

"Well, I—" He stopped abruptly as Hermione raced out of the portrait hole. Her expression was horrified.

"Come to have a good gloat?" Ron bit out. Chrys aimed a kick at his shin, but missed. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

"No…" Hermione's lip trembled. Chrys stepped forward hesitantly. "I just thought you ought to know… Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."


	15. Of Cheering and Cheating

Chrys stared at the note Hagrid had sent Hermione. It was blotted with tears.

Buckbeak was to be executed at a date later to be decided.

"They can't do this," Harry said. "They can't. Buckbeak's not dangerous."

Hermione sniffled. Chrys hesitantly wrapped an arm around her, relieved when Hermione didn't push her away.

"Malfoy's dad's frightened the Committee into it," Hermione figured. "You know what he's like."

"Yeah, he's even more of a bully than his son," Chrys agreed. "And that Committee isn't blameless either." Hermione shrugged.

"They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only, I can't see any hope… nothing will have changed."

"Yeah it will," Ron said strongly. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione untangled herself from Chrys and leapt at Ron. Ron stiffened up for a moment, wide eyed as Hermione cried. Chrys gave him a look. He awkwardly patted Hermione on the back. "Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers," Hermione sobbed.

"Oh—well—he was old…" Ron relaxed as Hermione finally let go of him. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now."

Hermione let out a watery laugh.

Chrys was frustrated that they couldn't go visit Hagrid right away, but with all the security restrictions in place, the only thing to do was to wait to speak to him after Care of Magical Creatures.

"'S all my fault," Hagrid said miserably as he walked them back up to the castle. "Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em…"

"There's still the appeal!" Ron said, determined. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!" Chrys had suggested writing to Charlie as well, but post from Romania was slow, and they weren't sure they'd hear back from him before the appeal.

So Ron had swallowed his pride and asked Percy, who knew a great deal of legal jargon, for advice. Although Percy had seemed glad Ron and Hermione were speaking again, and did suggest a couple more books to read, he didn't seem to have much hope.

And Hagrid seemed to agree.

"'S'no good, Ron," Hagrid told him as they reached the castle. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had."

"I'm sure you've made him very happy already, letting him stay in your home," Chrys commented. Hagrid smiled sadly.

"Well, 's the least I can do…" He turned and practically ran back down to his hut. Chrys could hear him blowing his nose in his giant handkerchief as he went.

"Look at him blubber!"

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy!" Chrys hissed, turning to him with her hands on her hips.

Malfoy merely smirked his usual smirk. "He's even more pathetic than you, Potter! And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Ron, Chrys and Harry all started forward towards him. Crabbe and Goyle noticed, and moved in front of their smaller friend—but no one was prepared for Hermione.

The sound of the smack was _so _satisfying.

Malfoy stumbled backwards from the force of her blow. Chrys grinned. The boys appeared frozen in shock.

"Don't you _dare _call Hagrid pathetic, you foul—you evil—" Hermione raised her hand up again.

"Hermione!" Ron grabbed her wrist. Harry looked torn between egging her on and helping Ron restrain her… or, at least, that's how Chrys was feeling… maybe she was just projecting.

"Get _off_, Ron!" Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy took a big step back. Crabbe and Goyle looked even more confused than usual.

"Maybe you'd better get out of here," Chrys suggested to Malfoy mildly. "Whatever else you have against her—even you know how good Hermione is with her spellwork."

Malfoy took her suggestion. "C'mon," he grunted to his bodyguards. The three of them ran into the castle.

"_Hermione!" _Ron said again. His expression was shocked and awed.

"That was amazing!" Chrys said happily, giving her a tight hug.

Hermione was still glowering.

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" She said sharply. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!" Harry opened and closed his mouth.

"We're due in Charms…" Ron said slowly, still studying Hermione. "We'd better go."

"You're late, you three!" Professor Flitwick admonished as Harry opened the door to the Charms classroom. Chrys blinked—wait, _three_? She looked around, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. "Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs—"

Chrys apologetically tuned him out.

"Where is she?" Ron said in an undertone. Harry frowned.

"That's weird… maybe… maybe she went to the bathroom or something?"

"Well, I know what Hagrid said about waiting until she came to us for help… but I'm tired of letting her sulk on her own," Chrys decided. "Harry, you'd better take some halfway decent notes for once. Hermione'll be wanting them for later."

"What—" Harry started, but she had already raised her hand.

"Excuse me, Professor, but I've got a bathroom emergency," she said without embarrassment. Lavender made a face, while Parvati looked somewhat concerned.

"Oh, well… hurry along, then, Miss Potter," Professor Flitwick said awkwardly.

After looking in most of the bathrooms, Chrys ran into Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost. Nick thought he'd seen Hermione heading up to Gryffindor Tower, so Chrys decided to head there next.

She found Hermione sitting at her usual table, surrounded by her books. However, instead of studying, Hermione appeared to have fallen asleep. _Arithmancy Through the Ages_ made a nice thick pillow.

Chrys quietly settled down on the carpet next to the couch. She dragged one of Hermione's essays towards her and started looking through it for corrections.

By the time Harry and Ron arrived (looking very relieved to see them), Hermione had gotten a decent amount of rest.

So, Chrys let Harry go ahead and poke Hermione's shoulder until she jerked awake.

"Wh-what?" Hermione shook herself. "Is it time to go? W-which lesson have we got now?"

"Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes," Harry told her gently. "Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms? Or lunch?"

"What? On no!" Hermione jumped to her feet, wobbling a bit. Ron steadied her. "I forgot to go to charms!"

"And lunch," Ron repeated. "You're looking a bit pale, you should really eat something, Hermione."

"Here." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a sandwich wrapped in a napkin. "I got it for Chrys, but…"

"We can share." Chrys gave half to Hermione, and stared her down until the girl started to nibble distractedly.

"Hermione, how could you have forgotten to go to Charms?" Harry asked carefully, after she'd finished her food. "You were with us till we were right outside the classroom…"

"I don't believe it!" Hermione looked on the edge of tears. "Was Professor Flitwick angry?"

"Er, not really," Ron said. "We did Cheering Charms today. Harry's got you some notes." Hermione smiled weakly at him.

"Oh, thank you, Harry!" She groaned. "It was Malfoy, I was thinking about him and I lost track of things!"

"You know what, Hermione?" Ron said, looking at the Arithmancy book. "I reckon you're cracking up. You're trying to do too much work." Chrys pursed her lips. She and Harry had both tried to tell Hermione this, but it wasn't something she liked to hear.

"No, I'm not!" Hermione moved a soft fluff of hair out of her face. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry…"

"I'll come with you," Chrys said quickly. "Since I missed class as well…"

"Why's that?" Hermione wondered, frowning as they headed out of the portrait hole.

"See you in Divination!" Ron called after them.

"Oh, well… I was looking for you," Chrys said honestly. "We were worried, you know."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm doing fine, really."

"Really, you're not." Chrys sighed. "But that's okay, I'm not going to push you on the subject. Just know we're all here for you if you need anything." Hermione smiled slightly.

"I know, Chrys. I know."

"Hermione, I promise I'll study Cheering Charms with you, so we'll know them perfectly if they show up on our exams," Chrys said tiredly as they climbed up the ladder to Divination. They sat down next to Harry and Ron at their usual table, Chrys already feeling sleepy from the dim lighting and warm fire in the room.

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered. He eyed the sphere sitting in the middle of the table, clouded with swirly mist.

"Don't complain," Harry told him. "This means we've finished palmistry. I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hand."

"Me too," Chrys agreed. She glanced sideways at Parvati and Lavender, who were excitedly examining the crystal ball. "And maybe this won't be so bad."

Hermione snorted. Professor Trelawney arrived and explained that she'd moved their study of crystal balls up early because the fates had informed her the subject would be on their exams. Hermione snorted again.

"Well, honestly… _the fates have informed her_… who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!"

Harry and Ron were trying very hard not to laugh. Chrys grinned, keeping quiet, as Professor Trelawney wasn't too far away.

While Professor Trelawney instructed them on how to use the crystal ball, Chrys made faces at Ron through it. Ron was absorbed by a fit of silent laughter. Hermione was tutting while Harry smiled at them all good-naturedly.

Ron finally stopped laughing after they'd been staring into the crystal for twenty minutes straight. "Seen anything yet?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, there's a burn on this table." Ron pointed. "Someone's spilled their candle."

"This is such a waste of time," Hermione muttered. "I could be practicing something useful. Chrys, we should really have the cheering charm incantation memorized before our next class—"

Professor Trelawney swooshed over, jewelry jingling.

"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?"

"I don't need help," Ron said under his breath. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight." Harry, Chrys, and Hermione all burst out into laughter.

"Now really!" Professor Trelawney protested. Many of the other students were looking over by now. Seamus looked hopeful that Harry was about to do something to make the class more interesting. Parvati and Lavender were shooting them admonishing glares. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She leaned over the table to gaze into their orb. "There is something here!" Chrys and Harry let out a sigh in unison, exchanging a meaningful look. "Something moving… but what is it? My dear… it is here, plainer than ever before… my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer… the Gri—"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Hermione interrupted. "Not that ridiculous Grim _again!" _Professor Trelawney looked away from the orb to stare at Hermione. Parvati whispered something to Lavender.

Professor Trelawney straightened up. "I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my _dear_…" Her voice was shaking with anger. "… It has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

The class waited on baited breath.

"Fine!" Hermione jerked to her feet, stuffing her book back into her bag. "Fine!" She swung the bag over her shoulder, narrowly missing hitting Ron in the face. "I give up! I'm leaving!"

And she did.

Hermione kicked open the trapdoor and disappeared down the ladder.

Professor Trelawney awkwardly tried to get the class to settle down as they all muttered about Hermione.

"Ooh!" Lavender said suddenly. Everyone looked at her. "Ooh, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? _Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!" _Chrys had been pretty sure at the time that Professor Trelawney had been predicting someone's death. "You said it ages ago, Professor!"

Professor Trelawney smiled mysteriously.

"Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the signs… The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know…" And with that, Professor Trelawney settled down at Parvati and Lavender's table, thankfully forgetting all about the Potter twins and the Grim.

"Well, she's bound to have gotten lucky sometime," Chrys figured. Harry nodded distractedly. She frowned.

"Some day Hermione's been having, eh?" Ron said, looking impressed.

"Hmm…" Harry was staring at the orb.

"Hold on, you aren't thinking about that Grim again, are you?" Chrys asked him under her breath while Dean leaned over from a nearby table to have a word with Ron.

Harry grimaced. "As long as it waits until after the Quidditch match to show up, I'm fine."

"Quidditch." Chrys rolled her eyes.

Even minus one class, Hermione was still drowning in homework. By the Easter Holidays, she at least had some company. Neville moved around dropping papers in a constant state of near tears.

Seamus was dealing with it by complaining loudly in the common room.

"Call this a holiday! The exams are ages away—what're they playing at!"

"At least you don't have as much work as Hermione," Chrys pointed out.

Seamus quieted at that.

If she hadn't been getting much sleep earlier in the year, Hermione was now getting none.

Chrys had caught Hermione and Neville sharing a box of tissues in the library, and quickly backed away before either of them saw her and got embarrassed.

Luckily, Madame Pince, the librarian, seemed to be guarding the corner Hermione and Neville were studying in. Chrys was surprised, as she would've thought Pince more likely to hiss at Hermione about getting tears on the books. The older woman gave her a nod of solidarity before she left.

Chrys had one more class than the boys, but as Harry was busy practicing Quidditch at nearly ever free moment, she and Ron took over researching for Buckbeak's appeal.

At one point, Ron was so focused on _The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology _(recommended by Charlie, who had read another book in the series, focusing on dragons, of course) that he hadn't noticed Crookshanks curled up comfortably next to him.

'_Of course, the best thing to do is get to know the animal itself,' _Charlie had written. '_It's always better to get practical experience with Magical Creatures.' _

So Chrys convinced Hagrid to let her spend some time in his hut in the evenings. He didn't want her to be in danger, but she convinced him that he could walk her back up to the castle, and besides, she wanted to get to know Buckbeak in case the appeal fell through… he agreed through tears.

On one evening, Hagrid agreed to drop Chrys off at the Quidditch pitch, so she could watch the rest of practice and then make her way back to the castle with the team.

"I've never seen a match have so much anticipation," Madam Hooch said to Chrys. Chrys nodded warily.

"And I haven't had a chance to finish that essay for Snape," Harry said tiredly as they made their way through the hall, dragged down by wet robes. 

Chrys frowned. "Well… I could write the conclusion for you. I'm pretty sure I can do a passable impression of your handwriting."

"Thanks." Harry grimaced. "But I'm pretty sure Snape has a better sixth sense than Trelawney about—"

He was cut off abruptly as he fell forward. He caught himself just in time, falling hand on his hands and knees.

"Harry!"

"I'm fine," Harry said, standing up and examining his red palms.

"Too bad," a voice said. Chrys frowned up at the Syltherin keeper, Miles Bletchley. He was leaning against the wall innocently. "That was a good look on you, Potter, on your hands and knees like that."

Chrys growled and stepped forward. Harry gripped her elbow.

"Chrys…"

"No, I'm tired of this idiot waiting for you in dark corners." This was the third time Bletchley had tried to trip Harry, although thanks to Harry's reflexes, it was the first he'd succeeded.

Bletchley raised an eyebrow at her. "Not my fault your brother is so clumsy, Potter. Are you sure he should be getting on a broom?"

Chrys would dearly love to punch him in the face, but she was unable to free herself from Harry's grasp. So instead she jerked out her knee, catching Bletchley between the legs.

Bletchley gasped and crumbled onto the ground.

"Good look on you," Chrys said coolly. "Although, I imagine it'd be difficult to sit on a broom like that."

"Miss Potter," Snape hissed from behind them. Chrys stiffened. "It seems you are more fond of detentions than I realized…"

"It was self-defense!" Harry said quickly. "Bletchley provoked her."

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said, coming up alongside Snape. "It would seem so."

"Nevertheless," Snape said. "Miss Potter did not need to respond with violence."

"Of course." Professor McGonagall turned to Snape. "However, Miss Potter is a member of _my _house. Therefore she will be taking her detention with me—while I'm sure you can handle Bletchley's punishment, Severus."

Snape's lip curled. He seemed to disagree with this, but merely nodded. Even Snape was not immune to Professor McGonagall's stern look.

After the Bletchley incident, Crabbe and Goyle started hounding Harry. They caught him alone in the hallway, and grinned, raising their fists threateningly. Harry did something he hadn't done in ages—made a run for it.

"Forget it, I'm not giving anyone an excuse to excuse me from the match," Harry muttered, after refusing Hermione's suggestion to make a compliant to McGonagall.

Instead, the whole of Gryffindor house seemed to take it upon themselves to watch Harry's back. The Quidditch team in particular. Angelina sat with Harry in the courtyard, chatting calmly with Hermione about cheering charms, but gave Goyle a blood-chilling glare when he poked his head around the corner.

Harry, meanwhile, had taken to carrying his firebolt with him at all times, in case someone tried to sabotage it.

"Do you reckon he takes it into the shower with him?" Fred commented, raising an eyebrow at Chrys. Chrys snorted and hid behind her Ancient Runes textbook when Harry frowned at her.

The night before the match, even Hermione couldn't concentrate.

Chrys and Dean had helped Oliver put together a little 3D model of the Quidditch pitch. Oliver spent a good couple of hours nudging the little clay players across the board as he described strategies. Harry looked like he might be sick.

"You'll be all right," Hermione said unconvincingly.

"You've got a firebolt!" Ron reminded him.

"Yeah…"

Shortly after that, Oliver sent them to bed early. Harry looked relieved.

The next morning, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff swallowed their pride to cheer on Gryffindor.

"Good luck, Harry!" Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker said brightly. Harry blushed. Chrys grinned and elbowed him.

"She is quite pretty," she said teasingly.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, yawning. She frowned.

"You didn't get much sleep last night."

He grimaced. "Yes, well, I got up for a drink of water and looked out and the window and saw…" He trailed off as Neville came to wish him good luck. "I'll tell you later," he finished in an undertone.

Chrys sat nervously between Hermione and Neville in the stands.

"Turned out okay, huh?" Dean said, leaning down from the row above them. He nodded his head at the large lion poster he and Seamus were holding aloft. Chrys had helped paint some of the mane.

"Oh yes, quite good," Hermione said in-between nibbling at her nails. Hermione had helped with the enchantment to make it roar. She gripped Chrys' arm as the players walked out onto the field, with Lee announcing the Gryffindor team names first. The crowd of silver and green crowd spectators booed.

"And here comes the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint," Lee continued the announcements. "He's made some changes in the lineup, and seems to be going for size rather than skill—" The Slytherins booed again.

"Well, he's got a point," Ron thought, eyeing the bulky Slytherin players. Chrys nodded, remembering how small she'd felt facing down Bletchly.

"Three… two… one…" Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the players took off into the air.

Chrys got a crick in her neck, jerking her head back and forth so quickly, trying to keep an eye on the quaffle.

"She scores!" Lee roared as Angelina made the first goal of the game. "Ten-Zero to Gryffindor!" Angelina punched her fist into the air, taking a celebratory lap around the field as people cheered.

Then she cried out, her broom thrown to the side as Marcus Flint crashed headlong into her.

"Sorry!" Flint called out. Even with her eyesight, Chrys could see Flint was grinning, not looking sorry at all. "Sorry, didn't see her!" The crowd booed. Fred threw his beater's club at Flint's head. Flint's nose began to gush blood.

"That will do!" Madam Hooch shouted. She awarded a penalty shot to each team.

"Come off it, Miss!" Fred protested. Chrys thought it was only fair. Alicia just shrugged and flew off to take the shot for Gryffindor. Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

"Yes! She's beaten the keeper! Twenty-Zero to Gryffindor!" Lee announced. A moment later, Wood blocked Flint's shot at goal. Chrys thought this might have something to do with Flint having trouble seeing through the blood, though it was clear Oliver had talent as well. The game started back up again, with Katie quickly taking possession of the quaffle. One of the Slytherin chasers grabbed her by the ponytail. "That was deliberate!"

Luckily, Katie managed to make the next penalty shot.

"This is dirty, even for Slytherins," Ron muttered.

"Oh, no!" Hermione gripped his arm as a bludger narrowly missed Harry.

"Oh, no," Neville repeated. "Now both of those big beaters are after Harry."

Ron laughed as Harry pulled away at the last second and the two beaters crashed into each other. "Thank Merlin!"

And then Flint gained possession of the quaffle. Lee swore into the magical microphone. Professor McGonagall made a grab at it.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again!" Lee tried to assure her.

Bole, one of those Slytherin beaters hit Alicia with his club.

"That's ridiculous!" Madam Hooch shouted at him. "I don't believe for a second that you thought Miss Spinnet was a bludger!" Ron snorted.

"Unless Bole really is as stupid as he looks…"

Seconds later, George elbowed Bole in the face. Madam Hooch awarded another penalty to each team. Malfoy appeared to be following Harry around the field, hoping to grab the snitch before he did.

Katie scored. Fred and George flew on either side of her with their bats up, daring the Syltherins to retaliate. Instead, the Slytherin beaters took the opportunity to smack both bludgers at Oliver. They caught him in the stomach.

Hermione gasped and dug her fingernails into Ron's arm. He winced.

"Don't worry, Hermione. He'll be all right… probably."

Oliver Wood was curled up in a ball on his broom.

"You do not attack the keeper unless quaffle is within the scoring area!" Madam Hooch said furiously. Gryffindor was awarded another penalty shot.

Angelina scored. One of the Slytherin chasers got the quaffle. Fred knocked it out of his hands with a bludger. Alicia grabbed it and scored again.

The cheering and boos were deafening.

"This is it!" Ron said. "If Harry catches the snitch now, we're sure to win."

"No pressure, or anything," Chrys muttered, knowing how Harry must be feeling. As if on cue, Harry began speeding off across the field. He was a blur for a moment before he jerked into view again, barley trudging along as Malfoy hung on to his broomtail.

"That little—!" Ron shouted.

"The snitch must have escaped," Hermione said, disappointed as Harry shook off Malfoy and looked around confusedly. Madam Hooch granted yet another penalty.

"You cheating scum!" Lee yelled. "You filthy, cheating, b—" He was holding the microphone out of Professor McGonagall's reach, but she was otherwise occupied. She pointed angrily at Malfoy, shouting protests along with most of the crowd.

"Oh dear, they're quite distracted now," Hermione said. The Gryffindor team had scattered, coming to check on Harry and yell at Malfoy.

Harry took a leaf from Malfoy's book, following him closely as the game started up again. Harry blocked Malfoy, but nearly the whole Slytherin team was attempting to block Angelina as she sped for the goal again.

Harry rushed at the Slytherins at full speed. They shouted, scattering and freeing the way for Angelina to score again.

Harry narrowly avoided crashing into the stands as the crowd cheered.

"Stupid," Chrys muttered.

"Also brilliant," Ron said, grinning and shaking his head.

Unfortunately, with Harry distracted, Malfoy appeared to have spotted the snitch and was racing towards it. Fortunately, Harry's broom and flying were far superior. He caught up and surpassed Malfoy in no time.

Harry made a sharp turn, straightening up to land neatly on the field. He held his fist up into the air.

The crowd cheered.

Just as they had last time, the spectators raced out on to the field to congratulate Harry.

Oliver got their first.

He hugged Harry around the neck, erupting in tears.

Chrys waved wildly at her brother as the team hoisted him up onto their shoulders. Percy was jumping up and down. Professor McGonagall was wiping her eyes on a handkerchief Lee passed to her.

The crowd carried Harry to the stands, where Dumbledore was waiting with the shiny gold Quidditch cup.


	16. Of Exams and an Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this chapter for some character development I'm working on for some of the side characters (specifically Angelina, Alicia, and Katie).

The Quidditch win was only a short reprieve from the trials and tribulations of studying for the end of the year exams.

The difficulty only increased as the days filled with sunshine and cloudless skies.

At this time last year, everyone had been outside, lounging by the lake, talking excitedly about plans for the summer.

When Chrys got back to the common room, it was full of students and books. The only sound was the rustle of paper and the scratch of a quill.

Chrys walked quietly over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Hi," Harry said without looking at her. "How was your detention with McGonagall?"

Chrys shrugged. "Okay. I helped grade this quiz the first years took. She gave me biscuits."

Harry looked up and blinked at her. "Biscuits? McGonagall?"

Chrys nodded. "She has a soft spot for ginger newt."

Harry shook his head and went back to his notes. Ron sighed.

"I could go for some biscuits right about now. I'm hungry."

"When aren't you?" Harry muttered. Ron squinted at him. Harry grinned. Ron smiled back.

"Okay. You've got a point. Chrys, do you—"

Hermione shushed him. "Can't you see people are trying to work here!" Several people were looking up at them, annoyed. Hermione groaned and rubbed her temples.

"Er… is something wrong, Hermione?" Chrys asked tentatively. Hermione frowned at her. "I mean—more wrong than usual."

"I can't find my copy of _Numerology and Gramatica. _I don't know what…" Hermione sniffled. Ron and Harry shared a panicked look.

"Well… when is your Arithmancy exam?" Harry asked, rummaging through her papers and pulling out a schedule. Chrys glanced around the room and spotted a group of fifth years studying in a pack.

"Hold on a second." She got up and walked over to them.

"Hey, Katie, you take Arithmancy, right?" Chrys asked her.

Katie looked up from the stack of books.

"Yeah? So? What?" Katie was normally very polite, but Chrys couldn't blame her. The dark circles under her eyes made her look like a raccoon.

"So, Hermione's lost her copy of _Numerology and Gramatica_, and I was wondering if she could borrow yours," Chrys explained. Katie frowned.

"I guess so." She dug one of the books out of her stack. It teetered. "I'm doing Charms right now—but she has to get it back to me by tomorrow!"

"Of course, it's Hermione we're talking about," Chrys reminded her.

"Poor girl," Alicia said, glancing over at her. Hermione was writing so quickly her parchment might catch on fire. "If she's this bad now, I can't imagine what she'll be like in fifth year."

Chrys blinked. "What happens in fifth year?"

Alicia looked at her. "Oh, were you raised by muggles?" She asked. Chrys nodded. "Me too." Alicia smiled amicably. "In fifth year, you take your O.W.L.s—Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Kind of like A-Levels in the muggle school system."

"Word of advice," Angelina said. "Don't leave studying for your O.W.L.s until the last moment. I'm trying to re-learn everything about the past five years of Transfiguration before tomorrow… pardon the mess if my brain explodes."

Katie snorted. Chrys frowned. "Hang on, aren't you in fourth year?"

Katie sighed. "Advanced courses."

"She's our little genius," Alicia said, rubbing her head fondly. Katie frowned at her.

"I can't be too smart, deciding to sign up for all these advanced courses," she figured. "Don't do it, Chrys. Just... don't."

Lee nodded.

"We could all use a break. Maybe some sunshine." He glanced out the window. "Hey, the giant squid has surfaced!" He looked at Fred and George. "Should we go see if he wants a bit of toast?"

"Not, now, Lee," Fred and George grunted in unison. Chrys had never seen them look so serious. Lee let out a loud sigh.

"Shush!" Alicia warned him, eyeing Percy walking past them. He was muttering to himself, carrying at stack of books taller than Chrys.

Lee waited until he passed and then gave Chrys a grim look.

"He's already given out three detentions for people breathing too loudly."

"Seventh year is N.E.W.T.s," Alicia told Chrys. "Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests."

Chrys blinked. "You're joking," she thought. Across the room, Percy dropped his books and broke into hysterical laughter. "…Or not."

"Thank you!" Hermione breathed out as Chrys handed her the book.

"Katie says to get it back to her by tomorrow," Chrys told her. Hermione wilted somewhat.

"Oh…" She shook her head. "I'll have to reschedule some things…this wouldn't be happening if I hadn't misplaced my copy!" She looked sharply at Ron and Harry. "You two are sure you haven't seen it?"

"Yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," Ron said under his breath. Chrys hastily turned her laugh into a cough.

"Look at this," Harry said, passing Chrys one of Hermione's schedules.

"Right." Chrys frowned. "Hermione, are you really taking two exams at the same time?"

"Look, it's Hedwig," Hermione said, changing the subject as the Snowy Owl came swooping through the window.

"It's from Hagrid." Harry tore the note open. Chrys leaned over his shoulder to read it.

"Buckbeak's appeal—it's set for the sixth."

"That's the day we finish our exams," Hermione said, turning the page of Katie's book.

"And they're coming up here to do it," Harry continued. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and—and an executioner."

Hermione looked up from her book.

"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as thought they've already decided!"

"Yeah, it does," Harry said slowly. Chrys curled her fingers into fists.

"They can't!" Ron protested. "We spent _ages _reading up on stuff for him—they can't just ignore it all."

"So… that's what Malfoy look so pleased about at breakfast," Harry thought. "His dad must've told him." He looked at Hermione. "Maybe you should hit him again."

The third years' first exam was on Monday.

They were to transfigure a teapot into a tortoise. Chrys hadn't gotten a very good score. Her tortoise had sprouted wings for some reason and flown out the window before Professor McGonagall could examine it.

"But—I'm sure mine looked more like a turtle than a tortoise!" Hermione worried as they left the classroom.

"What's the difference?" Chrys asked, regretting it immediately as Hermione whirled on her.

"Turtles have more of a—"

"At least yours wasn't breathing steam," Ron said grimly.

"Mine still had a Cherry Blossom pattern on its shell," Dean put in. "You think that'll count against me?" Chrys shrugged.

"Sounds pretty to me."

No one could eat much during lunch.

Percy poked at his food with his wand while he waved his fork around in the air, muttering incantations. Penny, who had come over to sit next to him, quietly reached over and switched the objects back to their correct places.

Ron shook his head and scooped extra pasta onto his brother's plate.

They rushed into Charms before the bell even rang.

Hermione had been right, Cheering Charms were on the exams.

They paired up to take turns casting the charm on each other. One pair went to the center of the room at a time, Professor Flitwick taking notes as he watched.

Harry bounced on the balls of his feet as he clutched his wand.

He was a little too enthusiastic. Ron couldn't stop laughing, even when Professor Flitwick tried the counter-charm. Ron's performance was delayed until the charm wore off.

Hermione glared at Chrys as if to say 'you'd better not do that to me!' Chrys frowned.

"Just because we're twins doesn't mean I cast charms exactly how he does!"

Luckily, she was right.

When she cast the charm, Hermione merely dissolved into giggles for five minutes before doing the same to her.

After dinner, Ron and Harry went back to the common room to study for their other exams. Chrys and Hermione went to take their Ancient Runes test.

Chrys tuned Hermione out as she rambled on about which runes she may have misinterpreted. Chrys was sure she'd gotten at least five questions wrong, and wasn't at all sympathetic to Hermione's worry that her in class essay had been forty words past the word limit.

Care of Magical Creatures was the simplest. It was pass or fail. Hagrid gave them each a tub of Flobberworms and told them they'd pass if the Flobberworms were still alive at the end of class. Flobberworms flourished if left alone. The worn out students were taking this as a period of rest—Hermione more so than others. She appeared to have fallen asleep standing up. Ron was munching on some biscuits. Chrys and Dean were engaged in an intense battle of Hangman.

Hagrid leaned over Harry's tub and had a whispered conversation with him. They were so absorbed that neither of them noticed when Seamus somehow managed to set his worms on fire.

He let out a string of very creative curses as Dean tried to smack it out with their Hangman parchment. This only fed the flames. The fire was now spreading to the other tubs.

"Save your worms!" Ron cried as the students grabbed their tubs and ran.

Chrys held her tub over her head.

"Um, Hagrid… a little help here?" She called out. Hagrid bustled over, looking confused. Hermione jerked awake as her sleeve caught fire.

"_Agumenti!_" She cried out. Water sprayed out of her wand onto her sleeve. She did the same to Seamus' tub.

"Great, now they're drowning," Seamus said miserably.

"That's a sixth year spell, isn't it?" Parvati asked Hermione, looking impressed. Hermione appeared to have fallen asleep again.

"Er, that's a fail," Hagrid told Seamus apologetically. Dean patted him on the shoulder.

Next was Potions.

After studying with Hermione for months, Chrys knew the Confusing Concoction recipe by heart. Snape looked disappointed as he eyed her perfectly thickened potion. She grinned. He moved over to Harry's cauldron and sneered. Then he very slowly wrote a zero next to Harry's name, tilting his clipboard so Chrys could see.

She briefly considered accidentally knocking over her cauldron and seeing if Snape got too confused to remember Harry's score.

At Midnight they had Astronomy. Luckily, the Gryffindors were taking this exam with the Ravenclaws. Padma and Parvati pulled out giant thermoses of spiced coffee. Professor Sinistra looked at them for a moment before conjuring a mug for each person. The students raised their cups in salutes before scribbling down the names of constellations. Chrys liked the mythology behind the stars, so she could remember most of the names and positions, but Ron appeared to be relying on muscle memory, not even glancing at his parchment as he wrote.

The next morning was History of Magic. Even on normal days, many students fell asleep during this class. Neville was jerked awake by his own snoring. Chrys grinned when she saw the topic for the in class essay.

She and Harry high-fived as they left the classroom.

"Thank Merlin for Florean Fortescue's American uncle," Chrys said. Thanks to his stories, she had plenty to write about on the Witch Burnings. Harry nodded.

"Only wish we had one of his choco-nut sundaes right about now." He pulled at the collar of his robes as they walked across the grounds to the Greenhouses. Heat radiated out of the sun-soaked earth.

It was worse in the glass-paneled greenhouse.

By the end of the exam nearly all of the students were red-faced and soaked in sweat. Chrys, Harry, and Hermione's dark skin didn't burn easily, but pale Neville and Ron were groaning and prodding at their raw pink necks.

"Stop touching it," Hermione scolded, smacking Ron's hand away.

He turned to argue with her.

"Yeah, well—!" He blinked. "Where the hell has she gotten to now? I swear, she was right behind me." Neville shrugged.

"Here," Hannah Abbott said, handing Neville a small vile. "Extra strength balm potion made from the turquoise cactus. Ernie gets burnt all the time, so I have some on hand. Anyway, I don't think he'll mind you borrowing some." Parvati looked over in interest.

"Mind if I see that?"

"Not at all." Hannah handed it over.

"Oh, like aloe," Hermione said, coming up next to Parvati. She nodded. "Good idea, Hannah." Hannah smiled. Ron jumped about a foot in the air, staring at Hermione.

"Where the f—"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Neville told Hannah, beaming at her. Hannah flushed pink. Chrys had a feeling it had nothing to do with the sun.

The next day was their last day of exams.

Professor Lupin's test was certainly the most interesting.

He had set up a sort of environmental obstacle course down on the Quidditch pitch. First they had to wade through a pond then trek across a bit of rocky terrain and a foggy marsh. Lastly, they were to climb into a trunk.

"Must be magically extended inside," Hermione thought. "Like Mary Poppins."

"Was she a witch?" Ron wondered.

"You know, I wouldn't be surprised if she were," Chrys said, as Hermione smiled.

Lupin was set up in the announcer's booth.

He had what looked like a bingo machine in front of him, next to the magical microphone.

He pulled the handle. A little ball popped out of the machine.

_Chrysanthemum Potter_ spelled out in letters floating in the air.

"Chrys—you're up first," Lupin called through the mic. "Please join me after you complete the course, to get your score."

Chrys wadded into the pool. The Dursleys had never taught her to swim, but the water only reached up to her waist. She was halfway to the other side when something slimy curled around her ankle.

She looked down. The water was murky, but she could just make out what looked like several bunches of seaweed climbing up her leg.

Grindylows. She took a deep breath and aimed the repelling spell.

The other students cheered from the stands as she heaved herself out of the pond. Her robes were heavy and wet. Strands of her hair were sticking to her face.

She moved on, stumbling across the pebbly grass.

She had a funny feeling someone was watching her. She ducked. A bone smashed into a boulder just behind her. More bones were flung her way. Some of them hit her, but they didn't hurt at all. Professor Lupin must have put a cushioning charm on them…

Then she saw a flash of red peeking out from behind a boulder. Redcaps. She continued dodging bones, this time returning fire with hexes. She got several of the Redcaps as they popped up to attack her.

Then she heard a scratching sound behind her. She didn't think. She whirled around and aimed a kick at its bright red head. It soared over a boulder, cursing as it landed on its bottom. It gave her a glare before it dove back underground through the many holes in the earth.

Chrys swore she could hear Lupin laughing into the microphone. She glanced up at the stands, but her glasses were a bit fogged up. She cleaned them on her sleeve and then continued into the foggy marsh. She had an idea of what creature was next. Sure enough, a soft green light blinked at her through the fog. _Come to me_, the light seemed to say. _Come to me, I'll lead you somewhere safe_. It was a pleasant feeling, like an old friend beckoning her towards them.

She shook herself and let out a loud, "Ha!" Yeah, right, Hinkypunk. As if I'm taking directions from a hopping lantern.

She got a little lost in the marsh all the same. She was sure Lupin would take off points for how long it took to get to the other side.

Still, her classmates cheered her on as she emerged from the marsh.  
But she was more preoccupied by the trunk.

She paused before climbing inside. There was only one creature she could think of that liked to lurk in dark trunks.

Harry's bloodied body was lying on the floor of the trunk. Chrys took a sharp breath. _It's just a boggart_. _Harry is perfectly safe, waiting outside for you to finish your exam._

"Chrys—!" Her brother's corpse reached out his hand. His fingers were bent at odd angles. His eyes rolled back in his head as he turned to look at her. "Chrys, why didn't you save me? You failed. I'm dead! You never loved me—"

"_R-ridikulus!" _She stammered. The boggart grinned at her with Harry's bloodied mouth. His teeth were like fangs. She swallowed the panic in her throat. "_Ridikulus!" _Flowers sprout up all over the corpse. There was a daisy coming out of his head, roses blooming brightly over his arms. Chrys laughed hoarsely.

The boggart disappeared with a pop.

She climbed out of the trunk with some difficulty. Her hands were shaking.

She walked up to Professor Lupin in the stands.

"It's all right," he told her, looking concerned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Only then did she realize she was crying. She wiped at her eyes and then held the worn handkerchief out to him.

"Keep it," he told her. Then he waved his wand and her clothes were dry. "Do you need to head up to Madame Pomfrey?" She shook her head, sniffling a bit as she stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket. "Then…. Do you want to hear your score?" She hesitated, and then nodded. "Right." Lupin flipped through a stack of parchment. "A few points off for how you dealt with the Hinkypunks, although if you run into them outside of a school exam, I'd say kicking them as far away as possible is a perfectly good strategy." Chrys let out a watery laugh. He smiled. "And bonus points for your first time beating that particularly nasty boggart of yours." Chrys frowned. She didn't feel like she deserved extra credit for only managing that now. "Don't ever argue if a teacher offers you extra points," Lupin advised, seeming to guess at her thoughts.

"Boggart?" Harry guessed as she rushed over to them. She nodded, staring at him. Even though she knew what she'd seen down in that trunk wasn't real… she sat down next to him, holding the sleeve of his robe like she was a lost child. He frowned at her.

"Great. Giant spider here I come," Ron muttered. He looked at Chrys. "What's your boggart anyway? I never saw in class." Chrys frowned at him.

"Don't be insensitive," Hermione chided, looking Chrys over with a sharp eye.

"Yeah, leave it alone, Ron," Harry said, though he looked just as curious.

Harry got a perfect score. No one seemed surprised. Ron did well until he reached the Hinkypunks. He ended up stuck in mud up to his waist, and Lupin had to drag him out. He wasn't the only one. Neville flushed in embarrassment as Lupin vanished the mud from his clothes. Lupin couldn't manage to get all of the mud out of Dean's hair. Dean was still dabbing at it in frustration as he joined them in the stands.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic glance before she left to take her turn.

Seamus looked at Dean and shook his head.

"Didn't your granddad teach you not to mess with strange lights in the fog?"

"You know I've only got my mum and sisters," Dean reminded him. Seamus winced.

"Right. Sorry… well, I'll invite you over to my granddad's sometime. He has some good stories."

Dean smiled. "Sounds good."

Hermione did perfectly until the boggart.

She rushed out in about a minute, screaming. Chrys ran to announcement booth. Hermione immediately tackled her in a hug, sobbing against her shoulder.

"Hermione!" Lupin said. "What's the matter?"

"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione stuttered, waving her hand back at the trunk. "Sh-she said I'd failed everything!"

"There, there." Chrys patted her on the back. "It's just a boggart, Hermione. Exams are almost over, yeah? Bet you've got the highest overall average in our year."

"I will have to take off some points for not defeating the boggart," Lupin told her apologetically. "You've still got nearly a perfect score, Hermione."

Hermione was still trembling a bit as they walked up the hill towards the castle.

"I dunno, Professor McGonagall can be scary, but not as scary as a giant spider," Ron said, looking like he might laugh. Hermione looked at him, her lip wobbling. Harry gave him a sharp look. Chrys patted Hermione on the back again, though she somewhat agreed with Ron. Hermione's boggart seemed relatively tame… but she supposed people couldn't help what they were afraid of.

Harry elbowed Chrys. He nodded at Cornelius Fudge, who was standing on top of the hill, staring out at the grounds.

"Hello there, Harry! Chrysanthemum!" He greeted them. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"

"Yes," Harry said shortly. Ron and Hermione hovered awkwardly in the background. Chrys had to admit, it was weird that she and Harry were on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic.

"Lovely day." Fudge gazed out at the lake. "Pity… pity…" He sighed. "I'm here on an unpleasant mission, I'm afraid. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."

"Buckbeak's not mad!" Chrys cried out automatically. Fudge blinked at her.

"Oh, so you've heard about this business, Chrysanthemum?"

"We've been doing research for the defense," she told him. Fudge gave her a pitying look. Ron stepped up.

"Has it already happen?" He asked. "Hagrid lost the appeal?"

"No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon." Fudge studied Ron.

"Then you might not have to witness an execution at all!" Ron told him.

"That's right." Chrys nodded her head eagerly. "Put aside the unpleasant business and pardon the hippogriff."

"My dear, I don't—"

Fudge was cut off by the arrival two more wizards. One of the wizards looked older than Dumbledore. His skin was wrinkly and tough like tree bark.

The other wizard looked a bit younger than Mr. Weasley. He was much taller than Mr. Weasley, nearly eye level with Hagrid's chest. His thin mustache was carefully groomed.

The old wizard squinted down at Hagrid's hut.

"The Committee," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Dear, dear," the wrinkly wizard said. "I'm getting too old for this…" At least he was self-aware. "Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?" The mustached man reached down and gripped something on his belt.

It as an axe, the blade recently polished. Harry frowned. Ron glared at it and opened his mouth. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

Ron waited until they were in the Great Hall to whirl on Hermione.

"Why'd you stop me?" He growled. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!" Chrys nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, your dad works for the Ministry, you can't go saying things like that to his boss!" She nibbled at her fingernails. "As long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak…" She didn't look like she'd even convinced herself.

The four of them sat quietly as the rest of the students chatted about the exams almost being over.

"Nervous about Divination?" Neville asked, after Chrys refused the plate of chips he offered. Chrys shrugged.

Hermione said goodbye to them as Chrys, Harry and Ron walked up to the Divination tower. "Still a bit early." Neville plopped down on the floor, crossed his legs and pulled out his course book. He looked hopefully at Parvati and Lavender. "I don't suppose you'd like to do a bit of last-minute studying?"

"Why not?" Lavender sat down next to him, pulling out her notes.

"Padma told me she's seeing us one by one," Parvati said.

"Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?" Neville wondered, flipping the pages of his book. Parvati tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Once I saw a storm cloud, which represents approaching danger," she said. Ron snorted.

"Crystal balls always look foggy."

Lavender frowned at him. "Well, I saw a butterfly one time. There's no mistaking that."

Neville went first.

"What did she ask?" Seamus asked when Neville climbed back down the ladder.

"Was it okay?" Dean wondered.

"She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" Neville squeaked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"That's convenient. You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her." He jerked his thumb up at the trapdoor. "She's a right old fraud."

Harry and Chrys were the last up.

"Want me to wait?" Ron offered.

Harry glanced at his watch. It was past two. "No, go on to the Common Room. See if you and Hermione can find out what's happening with the appeal."

Ron nodded.

Chrys climbed the ladder.

She choked on the sickly sweet smell. She still hadn't gotten used to the incense, even after a year of lessons in this room.

Professor Trelawney motioned her over to a single table in the middle of the room.

Chrys sat across from her, eyeing the crystal ball warily.

"You know what to do, Miss Potter," Trelawney told her softly. Chrys stared into the ball. There was nothing but the usual swirling mist. "Take your time…" She stared harder. The fire crackled behind her. The curtains were closed. With nowhere for the heat to escape, Chrys was suffocating in it.

She was getting a headache. "I… I see storm clouds," she lied, remembering what Parvati had said earlier. Professor Trelawney looked delighted.

"Yes, go on, dear. Describe the clouds for me."

"Um, they're dark…big… maybe there's a flash of lightning." Chrys couldn't think of anything else to say.

Professor Trelawney straightened up, looking disappointed. "Very well." She marked something down on her clipboard. "Despite the limitations of your feeble Inner Eye, you have made a valiant effort, Miss Potter. You may leave, and send your brother up."

Chrys sat on the floor in the corridor below the trapdoor. She sketched Professor Trelawney with an awkwardly large head and bulgy eyes.

Harry came down the ladder, his eyes nearly as wide as in her drawing.

"What's the matter?" Chrys asked, jumping to her feet.

"Trelawney…" He took a deep breath. "Well, first she was saying all this awful stuff about Buckbeak, and then… and then her voice sort of changed and she said something…" Harry motioned at her. "Parchment and quill?"

She handed them over. He quickly wrote something down. She frowned at the text.

_The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight… the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his Master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight…. Before midnight… the servant… will set out… to rejoin… his Master._

Chrys frowned at Harry. "She really said all this?"

Harry nodded. "She didn't sound like herself. And after she finished she sort of… woke up, and didn't remember anything she said."

Chrys put the note into her pocket. "You think… you think it was a real prophecy?"

Harry nodded slowly. "It must mean Black. Sirius Black is going to bring back Voldemort. We've got to tell Ron and Hermione."

The halls were filled with students celebrating the end of exams.

Seamus tore up his notes and flung them into the air like confetti. Lavender picked pieces out of her hair. Dean laughed.

Katie, Alicia, and Angelina appeared to be doing some sort of victory dance arm in arm. Lights flashed as Colin Creevy took everyone's picture.

Harry and Chrys rushed past all of them.

"No thanks!" Chrys waved away Lee who was passing out butterbeer.

The common room was nearly empty. Amongst the abandoned books and inkbottles, Hermione was curled up in the corner. Ron gripped her shoulder as she cried quietly.

Harry froze. Ron looked up. "Buckbeak lost. Hagrid's just sent this." He held up a note.

Chrys had trouble reading it. Hagrid's hand must have been shaking when he wrote it.

_Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it._

_Hagrid_

Chrys looked at Harry. "We're going, right?"

"Of course." He nodded. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset though." Ron glanced out the window. His expression was stony. "We'd never be allowed… 'specially you two…" He nodded at the twins.

"Simple," Chrys thought. "Let's just use dad's cloak." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. Chrys frowned at him. "What did you do to our dad's cloak?"

"Nothing," he said, in a tone that had never fooled her. She raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed. "I shoved it inside the statue of the humpbacked witch, just before Snape caught me." He shook his head. "If Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble."

"That's true." Hermione stood up and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "If he sees _you_… How do you open the witch's hump again?" Harry and Ron stared at her. Chrys grinned.

"You… you tap it and say _dissendium_," Harry told her. "But—" Hermione marched out of the room without another word.

Ron shook his head. "She's…"

"Amazing?" Chrys suggested.

"Something like that," Ron begrudged.

Hermione returned twenty minutes later with the cloak.

"I don't know what's gotten into you," Ron said to her. "First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney—" Hermione looked flattered. Harry let out a nervous laugh.

After diner, the four of them ducked into an empty room. They waited for the sound of footsteps to die off. Hermione poked her head out the door and gave them a nod. They pulled the cloak over them.

"Bit of a tight fit," Ron complained as they moved in a slow, close group.

"Yeah, well, if you'd just stop growing," Chrys complained.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "You're right. I should learn another spell for stealth before we grow out of the cloak."

"All of you shut up," Harry said tiredly.

He knocked on Hagrid's door. Hagrid looked around, his face pale.

"It's us," Harry said quietly.

"Invisibility cloak," Chrys explained.

"Let us in so we can take it off."

"Ye shouldn've come!" Hagrid said, but he let them in anyway. As soon as he shut the door, Ron threw off the cloak and inched away from them to get some personal space. "Wan' some tea?" His hands shook as he reached for the kettle. Chrys looked around.

"Hagrid, where's Buckbeak?"

"I—I took him outside." Hagrid missed the mugs and poured milk straight onto the table. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an'—an' smell fresh air—before—" He broke off. He was shaking so violently that the milk jug jumped out of his hands and crashed on the floor.

"I'll take care of it, Hagrid," Hermione said, hurrying to tidy up.

"There's another jug in the cupboard," Hagrid told her, sitting down.

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?" Chrys asked.

"Yeah." Hagrid let out a great big sigh. Ron looked helplessly at Harry.

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry suggested hopefully.

"He tried," Hagrid told them. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared…Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like… threatened them, I expect…"

"Probably," Chrys agreed bitterly. "But… what about Fudge? He seems to like Harry and me all right. What if we had a word with him?" Hagrid stared at her.

"Fudge's jus' supposed to witness…'sides, even if he could do somethin' he wouldn'. He's a spineless b—" He was cut off as Hermione burst into tears. They turned to her, but she waved them away, still looking through the cupboard for the spare milk jug. "And the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's."

"Thought his mustache looked suspicious," Chrys muttered.

"Best thing we can hope for is it'll be quick an' clean… an' I'll be beside him…" He swallowed thickly. "Dumbledore's gonna come down while it—while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter—ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore…"

"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," Hermione said, through her tears. Hagrid shook his head.

"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh wachin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway…" Hagrid looked pointedly at Harry and Chrys. "If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, yeh'll be in big trouble, no matter how much they like yeh."

Hermione continued crying quietly as she finally found the milk jug and went to fill it with milk. She shrieked.

"Ron! I—I don't believe it—it's _Scabbers!"_

Ron's mouth fell open. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione ran over to the table and turned the jug upside down. Scabbers came sliding out, squeaking and scratching as he tried to get back into the jug.

"Scabbers!" Ron started at him. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?" He grabbed the rat and held him up to the light.

"He looks dreadful," Harry said. Ron frowned. Chrys elbowed him.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Ron."

Harry was right, though. Scabbers was stick thin and missing large patches of fur.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" Ron tried to reassure him as he continued to struggle. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!" Hagrid stood up abruptly.

He stared out the window. "They're comin'…" A group of men were walking down the hill. Macnair's axe glinted in the setting sun. "Yeh gotta go. They mustn' find yeh here…. Go now…" Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket. Hermione grabbed the cloak. "I'll let yeh out the back way."

They moved through the pumpkin patch. Buckbeak was looking around nervously, beating his hoof against the dirt.

"Hagrid…" Chrys said. "He shouldn't…"

"It's okay," he said reassuringly. Chrys wasn't sure if was trying to reassure her or the suspicious hippogriff.

They all started speaking at once.

"Hagrid, we can't—"

"We'll tell them what happened—"

"They can't kill him—"

"Go!" Hagrid pressed. "It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!" Hermione covered them with the cloak. Hagrid stared at the spot they'd disappeared from. "Go quick. Don' listen…" He walked back to his hut.

The four of them moved up the hill. "Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered shakily. "I can't stand it… I can't bear it…" The sun was sinking fast. Ron froze. "Oh, please, Ron—"

"It's Scabbers—he won't—stay put—" Ron gripped at his pocket. The ball that was Scabbers twisted and squeaked. Ron let out a yelp. His finger was bleeding. "Scabbers, it's me, you idiot. It's Ron."

Chrys glanced down the hill. Hagrid's door was opening. The men were talking.

"Oh, Ron, please, let's move," Hermione begged. "They're going to do it!"

"Okay—Scabbers, stay _put_." They had barely moved forward when Ron stopped again. Harry sucked in a breath. "I can't hold him—Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us—"

The men were moving into the pumpkin patch. Scabbers squeaked louder and louder.

He wasn't louder than the sound of the swish and the thud of the axe.

The world was silent.

Hermione swayed. Harry gripped her shoulders, keeping her upright and under the cloak.

"They did it!" She hissed. "I d-don't believe it—they did it!"


	17. Of a Cat and a Rat

Chrys felt ill. Her stomach twisted and a flash of heat ran through her body.

She tried to pull off the cloak, but Hermione grabbed her arm.

"No, Chrys, you can't—"

A howl rang out from Hagrid's hut. He must be sobbing.

"Hagrid." Harry stepped forward. Ron held him as Hermione held Chrys.

"We can't." All of Ron's freckles stood out on his pale face. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him…"

"You're right," Chrys admitted reluctantly. Hermione let go of her. Chrys wanted to hit something. "We'd better leave before I go down there and give Mcnair a piece of my mind."

"You're right," Ron echoed. "Come on." They moved towards the castle. There was barely a hint of light in the sky. It was unusually chilly for a summer's night. Ron's teeth chattered.

Hermione was shivering, although, Chrys wasn't sure that was from the cold.

"How could they? How _could _they?"

Chrys didn't have an answer for her. "Just keep moving." They tried.

"Scabbers, keep still!" Ron muttered. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still—Ouch!"

"He bit you again?"

"No, Chrys—I just felt like shouting out and letting Fudge know we're here!" He hissed, still trying to hold onto the squirming lump in his robes. His hand was bleeding in multiple places.

"Fudge really will find us if you're not quiet," Hermione told him. "He'll be coming up in a minute—"

"He won't—stay—put—"

"What's the matter with him?" Chrys wondered. She looked at Hermione. "Does a full body bind work on animals?" Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry spoke over her.

"Uh-oh."

Familiar yellow eyes glinted in the darkness.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione cried out. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

The cat slunk towards them.

"Scabbers—no!" Ron shouted. The rat finally escaped. He ran.

Crookshanks took up the chase.

"Ron!" Harry protested. Ron didn't listen. He tore off the cloak and ran after the cat and the rat. Harry and Hermione grimaced at each other.

"Might as well," Chrys said, tying the cloak around her waist. They ran. Chrys took the lead. The cloak gave off a soft silver glow in the dark.

Ron dove onto the ground. "Gotcha!" He stood up, Scabbers clenched in his hands. Crookshanks glared and batted at Ron's ankles. "Get off, you stinking cat!"

"Crookshanks, no!" Hermione dove for her cat. Crookshanks dodged and ran off into the dark. Hermione fell face first into the dirt. She straightened up. "Ron—" She sucked in a breath. Chrys thought all the exercise with Ginny was finally starting to pay off. Her chest didn't feel tight like it had in the past after a run. "Come back under the cloak. Dumbledore…the Minster… they'll be coming out in a minute…"

Chrys turned to Harry. He was staring into the darkness, slowly slipping out his wand.

"Watch out!" Chrys called to Ron and Hermione. It was too late. The giant black dog leapt at them. It bowled Harry over. They skidded across the grass. The dog rolled off of Harry and straightened up, shaking itself. It snarled, its white teeth glinting. Harry groaned in a crumbled heap. The dog pawed at the ground. Ron and Chrys ran.

Ron was quicker. He pushed Harry out of the way. Ron shouted as the dog's teeth sunk into his arm. It dragged Ron forward. Harry lunged, grabbing a hold of the dog's fur. It shook him off, still clutching Ron in his grip.

Chrys shot sparks at it.

The dog blinked and stumbled. Harry reached out again—he was thrown backwards! Hermione cried out as the same thing happened to her.

"_Lumos!"_ Chrys saw something huge whooshing towards her. She rolled out of the way. It was the Whomping Willow. The club like branches smashed at her again. She rolled, the thorns clipping her side. She gasped.

"Chrys!" Harry had lit his wand too, and was dragging Hermione away from the tree. "Chrys—Ron!" The dog was dragging Ron towards a gap in the tree's roots. Ron was struggling, but it wasn't enough. The dog disappeared into the hole. The only thing left was Ron's leg sticking straight up. There was a horrible cracking noise and Ron's leg was gone. "Ron!" Harry started forward again, but had to jump back as a bashing branch blocked his path.

"We've got to go for help!" Hermione cried.

"No! That thing's big enough to eat him—we haven't got the time," Harry argued. Chrys couldn't move back or forwards. She was stuck in place, dodging branches. The cloak unraveled from her waist. She felt like the mole in a whack-a-mole. Harry reached her and grabbed her hand, pulling her forward.

Hermione groaned and clutched at his arm.

"Harry—we're never going to get through without help—"

But for all his pessimism, Harry didn't believe in impossibilities.

"If that dog can get in, we can," he decided. He was much better at dodging the branches than Chrys, but they still weren't making much progress forward.

"Oh, help, help," Hermione begged. She bounced on the balls of her feet, looking around. "Please…"

Crookshanks reappeared. He was even better at dodging than Harry. He zipped past the branches and reached the tree trunk. He slammed his paw down on a knot. The knot pressed in. The tree froze.

Chrys stared wide-eyed. "What the—"

"Crookshanks!" Hermione ran forward and grabbed Harry's arm. Harry winced. "How did he know—?"

"He's friends with that dog," Harry told them. Chrys frowned. "I've seen them together. Come on—and keep your wands out."

Crookshanks slipped through the hole between the roots. Harry went next. Chrys and Hermione exchanged a look before following.

Chrys looked around the dirt tunnel by the light of her wand.

"Harry—isn't this the passage on the Marauder's Map?"

"Must be," Harry figured. Hermione looked questioningly at them. "Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it…"

"Where does it lead?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade," he told her.

"Ron." Hermione gripped her wand. Harry sucked in a sharp breath. "Come on. Crookshanks is leading the way."

The tunnel ceiling was low. It was hard to run while crouching, but they managed. Chrys had a pain in her neck, but ignored it. The air was thick and musty. They were all breathing heavily.

They followed the cat around sharp corners. Then the tunnel ceiling got higher. They had lost sight of Crookshanks, but… "There's a light up ahead," Harry announced.

Chrys sneezed. The room they entered was dusty and falling apart. The windows were boarded up, but moonlight leaked through cracks.

The furniture was slashed like some big animal had gotten to it. Maybe the dog? But no, this room looked like it had been undisturbed for quite some time.

"I think we're in the Shrieking Shack," Hermione whispered. Harry frowned at the stuffing leaking out of a couch cushion.

"Ghosts didn't do that…" Something creaked above them. Hermione let out a small gasp and grabbed Harry's arm again. He flinched and gave her a look. She let go. They crept upstairs. A door at the end of the hallway was a crack open. "Nox," Harry muttered. His wand light died. Chrys followed suit.

She could hear purring behind the door. Someone let out a groan. Harry glanced at them. They exchanged a nod.

Harry kicked the door open wide.

Ron was sitting on the floor, back against a dusty four-poster bed. Crookshanks was rubbing against him, purring. He clutched his leg, which was angled oddly.  
He saw them. His eyes widened and he shook his head wildly.

"Ron—are you okay?" Hermione rushed to him.

Harry followed. "Where's the dog?"

Chrys paused. She thought she saw something moving behind the door. She inched forward, trying to peek around it.

"Not a dog," Ron grunted. His teeth were clenched together. "It's a trap—"

Harry frowned. "What—"

"He's the dog… he's an Animagus..."

Ron met Chrys' eyes and jerked his head at the dark corner she had been staring into. Harry whirled around. The door snapped shut, revealing a familiar face.

He turned to Chrys, who was standing a few feet away from him. His hair was almost as long as hers but even more tangled. He was thin as a corpse. He grinned at her. His teeth were yellow.

She backed away, putting herself in front of him and the others.

"_Expelliarmus,_" Sirius Black croaked out, waving Ron's wand in an arch. Chrys gripped at her wand, but it flew with Harry and Hermione's into Black's grasp. His gaze slipped from Chrys to Harry. "I thought you'd come to help your friend…" His voice was barely a whisper. It sounded… rusty. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run to a teacher. I'm grateful… it will make everything much easier…"

Harry glared at him. Chrys shivered at her brother's expression. Pure hatred. The closest she'd seen to it was when Aunt Marge had hit her this summer.

She had no doubt that if he had his wand he would attack.

But… they had grown up for ten years without wands, why let that stop him now? He started forward. Chrys was grateful when Ron and Hermione grabbed onto him.

"No, Harry!" Hermione said in a horrified whisper.

Ron looked at Black, his expression defiant.

"If you want to kill them, you'll have to kill us too!" He growled.

Chrys felt a stab of affection for him.

"Ron…"

He stood, swaying, his skin paling as he tried to keep the weight off of his bad leg. Harry stopped struggling to support him.

Black frowned at Ron. "Lie down. You will damage that leg even more."

Chrys let out a nervous snort of a laugh. Who was the one who had damaged that leg in the first place? Black glanced at her.

"Did you hear me?" Ron said, gripping Harry's arm hard. "You'll have to kill us too!"

"There'll be only one murder tonight," Black said. He grinned again. Chrys frowned. Only one...? But there were two of them...

"Why's that?" Harry started struggling against Ron and Hermione again. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew… What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry!" Hermione was shaking. "Be quiet!"

"He killed my mum and dad!" Harry roared. He broke free of them and lunged forward. Surprise flashed in Black's eyes as they crashed into the wall. Hermione and Ron were screaming. Black sent up sparks with Ron's wand, but Harry wouldn't let up.

He punched wildly.

"No," Black hissed. His hand closed over Harry's throat. "I've waited too long—" Harry choked. Chrys, Hermione, and Ron moved all at once.

Hermione kicked Black in the stomach. Black grunted and let go of Harry. Ron held down one of Black's arms. Hermione grabbed his other arm.

Chrys knocked the wands out of his hand. They clattered across the floor.

She grabbed at hers and aimed it at Black's face.

He grinned at her.

"What are you going to do, little flower?" He asked. Why did he call her that? Chrys frowned at him. His breathing was beginning to slow. His eye was swelling, his nose dripped blood.

"Chrys—get him!" Harry growled. Black struggled against Ron and Hermione. Chrys hesitated. Harry dove for the other wands. "Argh!"

Crookshanks had leapt onto Harry, claws sinking into his arm.

"No!" Hermione shouted. She and Ron were struggling to hold Black down.

"No you don't!" Harry aimed a kick at the cat. Crookshanks hissed and jumped back.

"_Wingardum leviosa_!" Chrys levitated Crookshanks, and flicked him to the other side of the room. Harry picked up the other three wands.

"Get out of the way!" Harry shouted at Ron and Hermione. They fell off of Black. Harry passed them their wands. Ron's face was tinged a sickly green. Hermione helped him back over to the bed. He clutched his leg with both hands. Harry joined Chrys standing in front of Black, who was still slumped against the wall.

He pointed his wand at Black's heart.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" Black asked softly.

"You killed our parents." His voice was shaking, but his wand hand was quite steady.

"I don't deny it." Black stared into his eyes. "But if you knew the whole story…"

"The whole story?" Harry repeated. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," Black said urgently. "You'll regret it if you don't… you don't understand…"

"I understand more than you think," Harry told him. "You never heard her, did you? Our mum… trying to stop Voldemort killing us… and you did that… you did it…"

There was a beat of silence.

And then Crookshanks returned. He leapt onto Black's chest, shielding his heart from Harry. Black stared down at the cat.

"Get off." He tried to push Crookshanks off, but the cat dug his claws into Black's tattered robes and stayed firm. His yellow eyes flashed at Harry. Harry held up his wand. Hermione let out a sob.

"Stop." Chrys lightly rested her fingers on his wrist. Harry glanced at her, furious. And then she heard someone's footsteps downstairs.

"We're up here!" Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs. "We're up here—Sirius Black—_Quick!" _ Harry had lost some of his nerve. He stared at Black.

Chrys turned to the door. It burst open. Tension flooded out of her shoulders. It was Lupin. He glanced around the room and then raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

Chrys stared wide-eyed as her and Harry's wands floated into Lupin's hand. Hermione and Ron's wands were zipped away as well. Harry's shoulders sunk. He looked exhausted.

"Why?" Chrys asked Lupin. He didn't answer. Instead he turned to Black.

"Where is he, Sirius?" He asked. Harry frowned. Black stared at Lupin, and then slowly he lifted his arm and pointed at Ron. Harry and Ron looked confusedly at each other. "But then…" Lupin stared into Black's eyes. "…Why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless…" Lupin's eyes widened. "—Unless _he_ was the one… unless you switched… without telling me?" Black nodded slowly.

"Professor?" Harry spoke up. "What's going—" Lupin lowered his wand and walked up to Black. Harry's voice died in his throat. Lupin pulled Black to his feet. Crookshanks was dislodged and stared up at them in annoyance. The two men hugged.

Harry looked like he might be sick.

"I don't believe it!" Hermione shouted. Lupin let go of Black and looked at her. "You—you—"

"Hermione—" Lupin tried.

"—You and him!"

"Hermione, calm down—"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione continued. "I've been covering up for you—"

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin called over her. "I can explain—"

Harry's fury had returned. "We trusted you, and all this time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," Lupin said. "I haven't been Sirius' friend, but I am now—let me explain…"

"No!" Hermione shouted again. "Don't trust him, he's been helping Black into the castle, he wants you dead too—_he's a werewolf_!"

The room pulsed with silence.

And then Chrys blinked. "Oh." All the pieces fell together now. The timing of his illnesses, the potion Snape made him, the smug look on Hermione's face when she finished that werewolf essay…

Lupin glanced at her, and then turned to Hermione.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said dryly. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle, and I certainly don't want Harry dead…" He looked disgusted at the thought. "But I won't deny I'm a werewolf."

Ron tried to stand up again, but fell back onto the bed with a cry of pain. Lupin moved towards him, clearly concerned. "Get away from me, werewolf!"

Lupin froze, pained by the comment. He looked back at Hermione.

"How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione said hoarsely. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay."

Lupin grimaced.

"Snape will be delighted. He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant… did you check the lunar char and realize that I was always ill on at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly. Lupin let out a strangled laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione thought. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," Lupin told her. "At least, the staff does."

Ron gasped. "Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf? Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so. He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy—"

"And he was wrong!" Harry interrupted. "You've been helping him the whole time!" He pointed at Black, who had moved towards the bed and sunk into it. Crookshanks leapt up too, purring and circling him. Ron immediately got up and hobbled away from them.

"I have _not_ been helping Sirius," Lupin told them. "If you'll just give me a chance, I'll explain." Chrys frowned.

"Actions speak louder than words," she said. He looked at her, and then nodded slightly.

"Here." He reached over. She flinched. Hurt flashed in his eyes. Then she realized he was holding the wands out to her... including his own.

"Remus," Black said hoarsely. "I don't know that—"

"It's _Chrys_, Sirius," Lupin said. Black nodded slowly. Lupin turned back to her. "Take them." Chrys took the wands, eyeing him uncertainly. "There. You're armed—we're not. Now will you listen?" Chrys turned to Harry, whose brow furrowed.

"Harry…" Chrys looked at him as she handed back their wands. She tucked Lupin's wand in her pocket. It felt too heavy in her hands.

"If you haven't been helping him…" Harry glared at Black. "…How did you know he was here?"

"The map," Lupin told him. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it—"

"You know how to work it?" Harry regarded him suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it." Lupin waved his hand. "I helped write it. I'm Moony—that was my friends' nickname for me at school." Chrys let out a surprised laugh. Lupin looked at her like he wanted to smile.

Harry stared. "You _wrote_—?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you four might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed," Lupin said. "And I was right, wasn't I?" Chrys nodded slowly. Lupin started pacing, like he did when someone asked a particularly good question in class. "You may have been wearing your father's old cloak—"

"How'd you know about the cloak?" Harry wanted to know.

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it…" Lupin waved his hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map." Chrys filed this away for future reference. "I watched you cross the ground and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" Harry and Chrys said together.

"No, we weren't!" Harry said.

Lupin ignored them. "I couldn't believe my eyes…" He continued pacing. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" Harry insisted.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled _Sirius Black_… I saw him collide with Harry. I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow—"

"One of us!" Ron protested.

"No, Ron." Lupin looked him over. "Two of you… Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" Ron blinked at him.

"What? What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," Lupin told him. "Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated. He put a hand against his chest, where Scabbers was wriggling under his robes. Scabbers made a leap for it. Ron grabbed him by the tail. Lupin let out a gasp and took a step closer.

Crookshanks hissed. "What?" Ron grunted as he struggled to keep hold of Scabbers. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Black said suddenly. Chrys stared at him. Strangely enough, she had almost forgotten the man who betrayed her parents was still in the room.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—" Ron argued.

"No, he's not," Lupin said quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," Black elaborated. "By the name of Peter Pettigrew."


	18. Of Friends and Foolishness

The room sat in silence.

"You're both mental," Ron decided. Harry's expression said he agreed.

"Ridiculous," Hermione said faintly.

Chrys tilted her head. "Isn't Pettigrew dead?"

Harry nodded fiercely. He pointed at Black. "_He_ killed him twelve years ago!"

"I meant to," Black growled. He bared his yellow teeth. "But little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though!"

Black lunged at Scabbers. Crookshanks hissed as he was thrown to the floor. Ron howled as Black's weight pressed against his broken leg.

"Get off of him!" Chrys said, grabbing at Black's arm and pulling. "You're hurting him!" Frail as he was, she should have been able to overpower him, but his fury made him stronger.

"Sirius, no!" Lupin yelled. He grabbed Black's other arm and helped Chrys pull him away from Ron. Black struggled against them. "Wait! You can't just do it like that—they need to understand—we're got to explain—"

"We can explain afterwards!" Black said. His arm reached frantically towards Ron and Scabbers. Scabbers was squealing and squirming wildly. Ron barely managed to hold him.

"They've got—a right—to—know—everything!" Lupin grunted out. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Chrys—and Harry—you owe them the truth, Sirius."

Black stopped struggling. He glared at Scabbers who was still moving frantically. Ron's hands were bitten and scratched bloody.

"Alright, then. Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…"

Disgusted, Chrys let go of him and stepped back. Black glanced at her, almost disappointed, before turning his full attention back to the rat.

"You're nutters, both of you," Ron said shakily. He glanced at Harry and Hermione. "I've had enough of this. I'm off." He tried to stand up again, but Lupin blocked him.

"You're going to hear me out, Ron. Just keep a hold on Peter while you listen."

"He's not Peter, he's Scabbers!" Ron yelled. He tried to push the rat back into his pocket, but Scabbers wouldn't have it. Ron swayed.

Harry caught him and leaned him back down on the bed.

Then, pointedly ignoring Black, he turned to Lupin.

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," Harry said. "A whole street full of them."

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" Black hissed.

Lupin nodded slowly. "Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter. I believed it myself—until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's Map never lies… Peter's alive—Ron's holding him."

Harry shared a look with Ron. Lupin and Black clearly hadn't convinced them.

Chrys wasn't too sure. Putting aside the question of Black's sanity, Lupin was cool and clever in the face of danger. She trusted Lupin. She didn't want to be wrong about him. And it wasn't as if wizards turning into animals was unheard of… She looked at Hermione.

"Could Pettigrew be an Animagus?"

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Animagus…" She shook her head. "He—it can't be true," she stuttered out.

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin asked gently.

"Because… Professor Lupin…" She looked at him, as if begging him to be reasonable. "Because people would _know_ if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals. There's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things… and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list—"

Chrys wished she had a partially eidetic memory like Hermione did. Harry looked impressed as well. But…

"Was Black on the list?" Chrys asked.

Hermione froze. "No," she squeaked out.

"So, clearly people can become animagi without getting registered," Chrys reasoned.

Lupin laughed. "You're both right! Animagi are supposed to be registered—but the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"Three," Chrys repeated. "Black, Pettigrew and…"

"Your dad. James," Black told her. Chrys looked at him and their eyes met. He flinched like her gaze burned him. Harry frowned. Black turned to Lupin. "If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus. I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right," Lupin said. "But you'll need to help me, Sirius. I only know how it began—" The floorboards creaked. The door opened. Everyone stared. Lupin stepped forward and looked out at the landing. "No one's there…"

"This place is haunted!" Ron groaned.

"It's not." Lupin's brow furrowed. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted… the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

"Oh," Chrys said again. He glanced at her, pushing his greying hair out of his eyes.

"That's where all of this starts—with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten," he thought. "If I hadn't been so foolhardy…" Black rolled his eyes, like Chrys might when Harry started one of his self-deprecating rants. Ron opened his mouth. Hermione shushed him, gazing at Lupin intently. "I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure."

"What about that potion you've been taking?" Chrys wondered.

Lupin smiled slightly at her. "A very recent discovery," he told her. "It makes me safe. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform… I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me." Chrys frowned. "But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school…"   
Lupin sighed. He looked at Chrys. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I came to Hogwarts. This house…"   
Lupin glanced around sadly.   
"…The tunnel that leads to it—they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous. My transformations in those days were..." Lupin's voice echoed through the old house, accompanied by the sounds of Scabbers squeaking. "... Were terrible." Chrys studied the rat. "It is very painful to turn into a werewolf." Chrys' eyes snapped back to Lupin. She felt… "I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor… even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…"  
Lupin smiled slightly."But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time, I had friends…" His voice sounded far away. Chrys remembered meeting Hermione and Ron on the train, how easy it was to talk to them. "Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, James Potter." Harry stiffened. Lupin looked at him.  
"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her… I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth…" He looked at her. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably. "And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animgai."

Harry stared at him, focused intently.

"That's… that's very advanced magic," Hermione muttered. Lupin smiled.

"Indeed. It took them the best part of three years to work it out. James and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong—one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it." Lupin frowned at Scabbers. "Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

Chrys and Harry opened their mouths, but Hermione spoke first. "But how did that help you?" Her brow furrowed as she looked at Lupin.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals. A werewolf is only a danger to people," he explained. "They sneaked out of the castle every month under James' Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it." Chrys glanced at Crookshanks, wondering how the cat knew… "They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," Black grunted. He was still watching Scabbers. He looked at the rat the same way Harry had looked at him earlier.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there…" Lupin assured him. He cleared his throat. "Well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night." Hermione frowned. "Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check." Harry looked curious. "I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did…"

"So, that's when you made the map," Chrys figured. Lupin nodded. "You're Moony…" She laughed, distractedly running her hand through her hair. Lupin and Black both stared at her. "If Pettigrew was a rat—Wormtail—Black must be Padfoot…" She didn't look at him. "And Prongs…"

Her brow furrowed. What was her dad, a fork?

"What sort of animal—?" Harry began to ask.

"That was still really dangerous!" Hermione cut him off. "Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip and bitten somebody?"

Lupin's shoulders tensed. "The thought still haunts me," he admitted. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards." He shook his head. "We were young, thoughtless—carried away with our own cleverness. I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course… he admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…" His face went stony. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and Dumbledore's trust means everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am." Chrys frowned. "And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animgaus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" Black barked out suddenly. He finally tore his eyes off of Scabbers to look confusedly at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

Lupin looked like he was trying very hard not to sigh.

"He's here, Sirius. He's been teaching here as well…" Lupin turned to the others. "Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons… you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me—"

Black snorted. "It served him right." He sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to… hoping he could get us expelled…"

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Lupin told them. "We were in the same year, you know, and we… er… didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James…" He paused. "Jealous, I think, of James' talent on the Quidditch field… anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be… er… amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me."

"Stupid," Chrys muttered automatically. Lupin and Black looked at her. Black's lips pressed into a tight line, reminding Chrys of Aunt Petunia. Lupin grimaced and nodded.

"That's what I thought as well. I was furious. If Snape had made it to the Shack, I could have killed him… Luckily, your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his own life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…"

"So… that's why Snape doesn't like you," Harry thought. "Because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," a familiar voice hissed.

Chrys jerked around. Severus Snape pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing at Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much exposition! It's hard to break this up so that I'm not just retyping the book, and I don't want a wall of text either.


	19. Of Pettigrew and Pity

Hermione cried out in surprise. Chrys tensed, gripping her wand. Black jumped to his feet.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow." Snape throw the cloak aside. He held his wand steady on Lupin. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…" Chrys groaned in frustration.

"How did you—" She started.

"How did I know you were here?" His dark eyes glinted in moonlight that spilled through cracks in the old house's walls. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight…" Chrys' eyes widened. "…So I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did… lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw your running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus—" Lupin started.

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," Lupin told him. "You haven't heard everything—I can explain. Sirius is not here to kill Chrys and—"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," Snape said. He smirked. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this… he as quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a _tame _werewolf—"

"You fool," Lupin said hoarsely. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man inside Azkaban?"

Snape shot ropes out of his wand. The ropes twisted over Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles. Lupin toppled over. Black roared and started towards Snape. Snape pointed his wand right between Black's eyes.

"Give me a reason. Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Everyone froze. Chrys frowned down at Lupin. The only sound was Ron still struggling to keep a hold on Scabbers.

"P-Professor Snape," Hermione sputtered out. "It—it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?""

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "The four of you are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue_."

"But—" Hermione tried again. "If there was a mistake—"

"Keep quiet, you stupid girl!" Snape shouted. His eyes bulged. Ron glared at him.

Chrys moved in front of Hermione, coming to snarl in Snape's face.

"Don't you talk to her like that! I'd take a werewolf over a bully any day!"

Next to her, Black grinned slightly.

"Don't talk about what you don't understand!" Snape hissed at her. Sparks shot from his wand. Black and Chrys winced as the sparks pricked at their faces. Snape sucked in a breath, staring at Black. "Vengeance is very sweet. How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black shot back. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle—" He jerked his head at Ron. "—I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle?" Snape looked like the cat that got the canary. "I don't think we need to got that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…"

Chrys hadn't thought it possible for Black to get any paler.

He did. "You—You've got to hear me out," he told Snape hoarsely. "The rat—look at the rat—" Snape wasn't listening.

"Come on, all of you," Snape said. He snapped his fingers and the end of Lupin's rope flew into his hand. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too—" He stopped. Harry had crossed the room and stood in the doorway, blocking Snape's exit. "Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already." Behind Snape's back, Chrys looked at Ron and Hermione. Ron nodded, raising his wand. Hermione hesitated… "If I hadn't been here to save your skin—"

"Professor Lupin could have killed us about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "We've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, whey didn't he just finish us off now?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," Snape hissed. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"You're pathetic!" Harry shouted. "Just because they made a fool of you at school you won't even listen—"

"Silence! I will not be spoken to like that!" Snape shrieked. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck—you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you!" Hermione frowned and raised her wand. "You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black—now get out of the way, or I will _make you_. Get out of the way, Potter!"

The four kids pointed their wands at Snape.

"_Expelliarmus_!" They all shouted at once.

The door hinges rattled. Snape was blasted backwards and slammed into the wall. His wand landed on the bed next to Crookshanks. He slid onto the floor, blood smearing from his head onto the peeling paint. Chrys winced.

"You shouldn't have done that." Black stared at Harry. "You should have left him to me…"

Harry avoided his eyes.

"We attacked a teacher… we attacked a teacher…" Hermione whimpered, staring at Snape. Chrys watched carefully for a moment to see that he was still breathing. He was. She was relieved, mostly. "Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble—" Lupin struggled against his bonds.

"Speaking of teachers," Chrys spoke up. She and Black bent down to untie Lupin.

"Thank you," Lupin told them as his mouth was freed. "And thank you, Harry."

"I'm still not saying I believe you," he told Lupin.

"Then it's time we offered you some proof. Ron, give me Peter, please," Lupin said firmly. Ron frowned. "_Now_."

"Come off it." Ron held Scabbers to his chest. "Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on _Scabbers_? I mean…" He looked at Harry. "Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat—there are millions of rats—how's he suppose to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," Lupin thought, turning to him. "How _did_ you find out where he was?" Black reached into his robes and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. He smoothed it out and handed it to Lupin. Chrys leaned over him to get a look. It was the photograph of Ron and his family, from the article about winning the lottery last summer. Scabbers was sitting on Ron's shoulder. Lupin stared. "How'd you get this?"

"Fudge," Black told him. "When he came to inspect Azkaban, he gave me his paper." Chrys shook her head. Idiot. "And there was Peter, on the front page… On this boy's shoulder… I knew him at once… how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts… to where the twins were…"

Chrys stared at him. "You were trying to _protect_ us?" She remembered Snape in their first year...

"Of course," Black said softly. "You—"

"My God," Lupin said suddenly, staring at Scabbers. "His front paw…"

"What about it?" Ron grunted.

"He's got a toe missing," Black explained.

"Of course," Lupin breathed. "So simple… so _brilliant_… he cut it off himself?"

Black nodded. "Just before he transformed. When I corned him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with his wand behind his back—killed everyone within twenty feet of himself—and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" Lupin said. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger."

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something," Ron argued. "He's been in my family for ages, right—"

"Twelve years, in fact," Lupin interrupted. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We—we've been taking good care of him!"

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" Lupin pointed out. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again…"

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" Ron jerked his head at Crookshanks, who was now kneading the ancient mattress on the bed.

Harry frowned thoughtfully.

"The cat isn't mad," Black said. He reached over and stroked behind Crookshanks' ears. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me… finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after…" Chrys blinked at him. He could talk to cats? "…And he's been helping me."

Hermione gasped. "What do you mean?"

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but he couldn't… so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me… as I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table…" Black said. Chrys stared at Crookshanks. Poor Neville. "This cat—Crookshanks, did you call him? — Told me Peter had left blood on the sheets… I supposed he bit himself… well, faking his death worked once…"

Harry blinked. "And why did he fake his death? Because he knew were about to kill him like you killed our parents!"

"No," Lupin said. "Harry—"

"And now you've come to finish him off!" Harry continued.

"Yes, I have." Black glared at Scabbers.

"Then I should've let Snape take you!" Harry shouted.

"Harry," Chrys said, gripping his arm. "Snape was going to hurt Lupin…"

Lupin glanced at her, and then at Harry.

"Harry, don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down—but it was the other way around. Don't you see? _Peter_ betrayed your mother and father—Sirius tracked _Peter _down—"

"That's not true!" Harry roared. "He was their Secret-Keeper! He said so before you turned up. He said he killed them!"

He pointed at Black, who shook his head slowly. Chrys suddenly realized there were tears in his eyes. "Harry… I as good as killed them," Black croaked. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me… I'm to blame. I know it… The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies… I realized what Peter must've done… what I'd done…" His voice cracked.

"Enough of this," Lupin said coolly. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, _give me that rat_."

Ron's jaw clenched. "…What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?"

"Force him to show himself," Lupin said. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him." Ron hesitated. Then he reached out. Scabbers' squeaks grew even higher pitched. Lupin held him tightly. "Chrys, my wand." She looked at Ron. He nodded tensely. She handed Lupin back his wand. "Ready, Sirius?"

Black picked Snape's wand up off the bed and walked over to him.

"Together?"

"I think so." Lupin held Scabbers in one hand, and raised his wand with the other. "On the count of three. One—two—three!"

Cool blue light burst from both wands. Scabbers floated in the air, his body twisting. Ron screamed. Scabbers fell. There was another flash of light as he hit the floor.

Scabbers' body continued to stretch and twist until… he was a man.

The man rubbed his hands together, panting heavily. His small eyes darted around, assessing his surroundings, pausing at the doorway.

"Well, hello, Peter," Lupin said casually.

"S-Sirius. R-Remus," Pettigrew stuttered. "My friends… my old friends…"

Black held up Snape's wand. Lupin grabbed his wrist, shooting him a warning look. He turned back to Pettigrew.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed—"

"Remus," Pettigrew said breathlessly. He was starting to sweat. "You don't believe him, do you? He tried to kill me, Remus."

"So we heard," Lupin said, his voice losing any pretense of warmth. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so—"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked. He pointed at Black with his middle finger. His pointer finger was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too… you've got to help me, Remus…"

Black's expression was unreadable.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," Lupin told him. Chrys swallowed at the word 'until.'

"Sorted things out?" Pettigrew looked around the room again, pausing on the boarded up windows… "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!" Chrys stared at him.

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" Lupin's brow furrowed. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew said. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Black's cold laughter echoed through the room, making Chrys shiver.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks?" He said. Pettigrew jumped like he had been hit by lightning. "What? Scared to hear your old master's name? I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius," Pettigrew choked out.

"You haven't been hiding from _me_ for twelve years," Black said. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters." Pettigrew flinched again at the name. "I heard things in Azkaban, Peter… they all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them… I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' house on your information… and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways…" Chrys automatically thought of Lucius Malfoy. "…If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter—"

"Don't know…what you're talking about…" Pettigrew wiped his sweating face on his sleeve. He looked at Lupin. "You don't believe this—this madness, Remus—"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," Lupin said. Chrys thought he had a point.

"Innocent, but scared!" Pettigrew argued. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban—the spy, Sirius Black!"

Black growled. "How dare you! —I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter—I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us… me and Remus… and James…"

A flash of hurt passed over Pettigrew's face before it dissolved back into anxiety.

"Me, a spy… must be out of your mind… never… don't know how you can say such a—"

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Black spat. Pettigrew took a step back from him. "I thought it was the perfect plan… a bluff… Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you… it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Pettigrew's mutters became unintelligible. Harry was studying him closely.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione said hesitantly. "Can—can I say something?"

"Certainly," Lupin said calmly, as if she was asking a question about some homework he'd assigned. Chrys was half-surprised Hermione hadn't raised her hand.

"Well—Scabbers—I mean, this—this man…" Hermione's brow furrowed. "—He's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" Pettigrew said, pointing at Ron. "Thank you! You see, Remus, I have never hurt a hair on Harry's head—I never hurt either of them! Why should I?"

"I'll tell you why," Black said. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead." Chrys and Harry exchanged a doubtful look. "You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…"

Pettigrew gaped like a fish.

"Er—Mr. Black," Hermione said. Black stared at her like she was an alien. Lupin's lips twitched like he might laugh. "Sirius," she amended. "If you don't mind me asking, how—how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?" Chrys smiled slightly at Hermione. As confusing as this situation was… Hermione always had good questions to ask.

"Thank you!" Pettigrew said again. "Exactly! Precisely what I—" He stopped at a single look for Lupin. Black frowned thoughtfully at Hermione.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me… but it kept me sane and knowing who I am… helped me keep my powers… so when it all became… too much… I could transform in my cell… become a dog."

So… Animgai could transform without a wand? That did sound like powerful and complicated magic. Chrys made a mental note to read up on Animagi. She wished she did her homework as thoroughly as Hermione…

"Dementors can't see, you know." Black swallowed. "They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions… they could tell that my feelings were less—less human, less complex when I was a dog… but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I no hope of driving them away from me without a wand… But then I saw Peter in that picture…. I realized he was at Hogwarts with the twins…perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again…" Pettigrew shook his head wildly. "… Ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of his allies… and to deliver the last of the Potters to them. If he gave them Harry and Chrysanthemum Potter, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors…" Black let out a breath. "So, you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive. It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it. It wasn't a happy feeling… it was an obsession… but it gave me strength. It cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog…. It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions… they were confused. I was thin—very thin… thin enough to slip through the bars. I swam as a dog back to the mainland… I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch a Quidditch match, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry…"

Black stared at him. Harry stared back. "Believe me…" Black looked at Chrys. "Believe me, both of you… I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

Chrys looked at Harry. He looked back at her and then nodded.

Chrys turned to Black. "We believe you."

He smiled. The teeth he had left were still yellowed… but it was a good smile, all the same.

"No!" Pettigrew shouted. He collapsed to his knees. He grabbed at Black's legs. "Sirius—it's me… it's Peter, your friend… you wouldn't…"

Black kicked out until Pettigrew withdrew.

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them."

"Remus!" Pettigrew turned to him instead. "You don't believe this… wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," Lupin said, looking over Pettigrew's head at Black. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"

"Forgive me, Remus," Black said, sounding pained.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend." Lupin started to roll up his sleeves. Pettigrew whimpered. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing _you_ were the spy?"

"Of course." Black smiled again. He rolled up as sleeves as well. "Shall we kill him together?"

Chrys' heart stopped for a moment.

"Yes, I think so." Lupin nodded grimly. Chrys reached out and tugged on Harry's sleeve.

"You wouldn't… you won't..." Pettigrew scampered on his knees over to Ron. "Ron… haven't I been a good friend… a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you… you're on my side, aren't you?"

"I let you sleep in my _bed_!" Ron said, disgusted.

"Kind boy… kind master… you won't let them do it… I was your rat… I was a good pet…."

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," Black said bluntly. Ron winced as Pettigrew grasped at his wounded leg. Hermione reached over and helped dislodge him. Pettigrew turned to her instead.

"Sweet girl… clever girl… you—you won't let them…" He squeaked. "Help me."

Hermione backed up against the wall.

"Leave them alone," Chrys said stiffly. Pettigrew moved towards her.

"Chrysanthemum—"

He had barely said her name before Lupin and Black advanced on him.

"Peter," Lupin said, his voice full of cold fury. "Step away from her."

"Harry," Pettigrew whimpered. "Harry, you look just like your father… just like him…"

"How dare you speak to them?" Black roared. "How dare you face them? How dare you talk about James in front of them?"

"Harry…" Pettigrew stretched out his hands. "Chrys—James wouldn't have wanted me killed. James would've understood. He would have shown me mercy…"

Lupin and Black grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him away from the twins.

Pettigrew lay on his back, shaking in fear.

"You sold out Lily and James to Voldemort," Black said, shaking in fury. "Do you deny it?"

Pettigrew didn't answer for a moment. Then Chrys walked over to him.

She met his eyes. He whimpered. "Did you do it?" She asked. Harry walked over to join them, slipping his hand into hers.

Pettigrew burst into tears. He looked away from them hurriedly.

"Sirius!" He cried. "Sirius—what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine… I was scared, Sirius. I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen… He-Who-Must-Be-Named forced me—"

"Don't lie!" Black shouted. "You'd been passing information to him for a year before Lily and James died! You were his spy!"

"He—he was taking over everywhere!" Pettigrew cried. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" Black said furiously. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" Pettigrew whined. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"Then you should have died!" Black yelled. "Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"

Black and Lupin raised their wands again.

"You should have realized," Lupin whispered. "If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."

Hermione turned away.

"No!" Harry shouted suddenly. He stepped between them and Pettigrew. "You can't kill him. You can't." Chrys looked from Black and Lupin's incredulous faces, back to Harry's determined one.

"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry said. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the dementors… He can go to Azkaban… but don't kill him."

"Harry!" Pettigrew embraced Harry's ankles. "You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you—" Harry dislodged him.

"Get off. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because…. I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become killers… not for you."

Black and Lupin looked at each other. They lowered their wands.

"You have the right to decide, Harry," Black thought. "But…"

"Chrys," Lupin said calmly. "What do you want to do?" Chrys shook her head.

"Harry's a noble idiot… and it _is_ more than Pettigrew deserves… but I think it's the right thing to do." She looked at Black. "If we turn him in, we can explain everything to Dumbledore. The Ministry can pardon you. You'll be a free man." Black stared at her.

"Very well," Lupin said. "Stand aside, Harry." Harry hesitated. "I'm going to tie him up. That's all." Harry moved. Lupin shot ropes out of his wand, like Snape had done. The ropes curled around Pettigrew. He wriggled on the floor like a worm.

"But if you transform, Peter," Black growled, pointing with his wand. "We _will _kill you." He looked at Harry. "All right?"

Harry studied Pettigrew for a moment and then nodded.

"Right. Ron." Lupin stepped over to him. "I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing." He bent down and tapped Ron's leg with his wand. "_Ferula."_ Bandages wrapped around Ron's leg, with a splint in the back. Lupin helped him up.

Ron blinked. "That's better." He breathed out. "Thanks."

"What about Professor Snape?" Hermione squeaked, looking down at him.

Chrys cringed. "We didn't… we didn't do any permanent damage did we? I mean, he's horrible, but…"

Black looked somewhat amused. Lupin bent over Snape and checked his pulse.

"I don't think there's anything seriously wrong with him. You were just a little… overenthusiastic. He's out cold. Er… perhaps it would be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this… _mobilicorpus_." Thin ropes tied themselves to Snape's wrists, neck and knees. His body pulled up straight and he dangled in the air… like a puppet. Chrys shivered. Then she spotted the invisibility cloak on the floor and picked it up. She tied it around her waist again, this time doing a double-knot.

"And two of us should be chained to this." Black poked at Pettigrew with his foot. "Just to make sure."

"I'll do it," Lupin said.

"And me," Ron said fiercely. He limped over to them. Chrys was about to protest, but his expression was so determined that she didn't have the heart to. Black conjured manacles. He chained Lupin to Pettigrew's right arm, and Ron to his left.

Crookshanks jumped off the bed and mewed expectantly at them from the doorway.


	20. Of Moonlight and Missions

Crookshanks led the odd procession down the steps and into the dark tunnel. Lupin and Ron followed, pulling Pettigrew between them. Black levitated Snape after them. Harry, Chrys and Hermione brought up the rear. Hermione was gripping Chrys' arm painfully.

Going through the tunnel was slow work. Ron moved sideways, like a crab. Harry looked up, watching Snape's head bump up against the roof of the tunnel.

"I never thought about it before," Black said suddenly. Harry looked at him. "I never even considered what would happen if I was… if I was pardoned." He looked back at Harry and cleared his throat. "I don't know if anyone told you—I'm your godfather."

"… Yeah, we figured that out," Harry said vaguely.

"Well… your parents appointed me your guardian, if anything happened to them…" Black trailed off. Chrys recognized the look on Harry's face—he was wondering if he should dare to hope… "I'd understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle. But… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you and Chrys… wanted a different home…"

Chrys felt warm, like she'd eaten an entire giant chocolate bar in one sitting.

"What—" Harry accidentally smacked his head on the ceiling. Chrys winced. "Live with you? Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," Black said quickly. "I understand. I just thought—"

"Are you insane?" Harry said hoarsely. "Of course we want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can we move in?"

Chrys laughed and clapped her hands together.

"Slow down, Harry—give the man a chance to breath."

Black did look like he was having trouble processing Harry's words.

"You—you want to? You mean it?"

Harry nodded fervently. "Yeah, I mean it!"

Black broke into a smile. And suddenly he looked ten years younger, like the man standing next to their parents in their wedding photos.

When they got out of the tunnel, the Whomping Willow was still.

It was a cloudy night. "_Lumos_." Chrys lit her wand. Harry, Ron and Hermione followed suit, but Lupin and Black were occupied with Snape and Pettigrew.

Pettigrew was looking around wildly. The wide space of the castle grounds must be tempting. "One wrong move, Peter," Lupin warned him, holding his wand steady on the man's chest. They moved up the hill.

And then they were bathed in moonlight. Chrys looked up at the shifting clouds. Then she looked at Lupin. He had frozen stiff, eyes wide.

Chrys started to move towards him, but Black put his arm up to stop her.

"Fu—" Chrys started to say, at the same time as Hermione gasped.

"Oh, my. He didn't take his potion tonight. He's not safe!"

"Run," Black said quietly. "Run. Now."

Harry wouldn't move. "Ron…"

Ron was still chained to Pettigrew… and Lupin.

"Leave it to me." Black pushed Harry back. "Run!"

Lupin snarled. His body twisted, similar to how Pettigrew's had earlier. Crookshanks hissed, his hair standing on end.

Black transformed just as Lupin did.

The werewolf ripped off his manacle. The dog leapt at him, sinking his teeth into the wolf's neck. The wolf howled as the dog pulled him away from Ron and Pettigrew.

Chrys ran towards Ron.

Hermione screamed. Pettigrew was going for Lupin's dropped wand. There was a flash. Ron crumbled to the ground, unnervingly still. Chrys stepped in front of him as Pettigrew raised Lupin's wand again.

"What—are you going to kill me like you killed my parents?" She said fiercely.

Pettigrew hesitated.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Harry shouted. Lupin's wand jumped out of Pettigrew's hand. Harry caught it and stuffed it in his pocket, pointing his own wand steadily at Pettigrew. "Stay where you are!"

Chrys raised her wand. She felt like every spell she'd ever learned had been erased from her mind—Pettigrew transformed.

The familiar rat scampered away into the dark. His empty manacle fell with a clunk into the grass, now only connected to Ron. Chrys kneeled down to get a closer look at him.

"He's still breathing!" She announced, relieved.

Lupin let out another howl. Black snarled. Chrys looked up to see Lupin running into the forest.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted at the dog. "He's gone—Pettigrew transformed."

The black dog looked up at them. There was a deep scratch over his face. Harry pointed in the direction Pettigrew had disappeared, and Black took off after him.

"Ron…" Chrys slapped his cheek gently. "Ron, wake up."

Hermione crouched beside them. "What happened?"

"I don't know… Pettigrew did something…" Her stomach twisted. "Hermione—he won't wake up!"

Hermione bit her lip. Harry looked around. The unconscious Snape floated nearby, but otherwise they were alone.

"We'd better get them back to the castle and tell someone," Harry decided. He pushed his fringe out of his eyes. "Come—" He froze as the sound as someone in the forest shouted out in pain. Harry stared out into the darkness. "Sirius…" Harry's whole body tensed.

Hermione looked at him, and then back at Ron.

"Go," she said quietly. Harry turned and stared at her. "You two go after Sirius—I'll… I'll get Ron and Professor Snape up to the castle."

"But—" Chrys tried to say.

"Go," Hermione repeated. "I'll manage."

Harry took off at a run. Chrys had no choice but to follow.

They followed the cries of pain along the edge of the forest, to the lake. And then it went silent. "No!" Harry moved faster.

Chrys panted, barely keeping up with him.

Sirius was kneeling by the side of the lake, groaning. His arms were up, shielding his face.

Chrys shivered.

"No…" Sirius whimpered. "No…. please…" Chrys bent down and gently touched his shoulder. He flinched.

"Chrys…" Harry said fearfully. She straightened up. Dementors, more than she could count, glided towards them. Cold mist crept over the water, turning it to ice. The chill soaked into her bones. "Chrys. Chrys—think of something happy—quickly!" He raised his wand. "_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!" _Sirius shivered violently and collapsed. The dementors surrounded them. The twins stood back to back. "Chrys—Chrys—help me!"

"_Expecto—_" Chrys forced her voice out of her throat. "_Expecto—"_ Harry produced thin wisps of silver, but Chrys could barely hold her wand up.

Harry's hand found hers. "We'll be okay… we'll be okay…"

Chrys remembered whispering this to him over and over again the first time Uncle Vernon had locked them in the cupboard.

It was so dark. The walls were closing in.

Pettigrew had escaped. Lupin was going to hate himself in the morning. Maybe Snape would follow through on his threat and lock Lupin up. Hermione was alone. What if Ron never woke up?

_I'm useless_, Chrys thought. _I should just do everyone a favor and stop trying_.

One of the dementors reached out to Sirius.

"No," Chrys squeaked. "Don't—" She raised her wand, but it slipped out of her fingers.

"He's innocent," Harry choked out. "I won't let you take him! _Expecto patronum!"_

The dementor's slimy hand brushed aside the silvery cloud that streamed from Harry's wand. Chrys fell onto her knees, losing her grip on Harry's hand.

The dementor reached its hands up and pulled back its hood.

Her stomach turned.

Its face was covered in thin stretched rotting flesh, with the eyes and mouth gouged out.

It sucked in a rattling breath. Harry raised his wand. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Multiple dementors reached out to him. Their hands wrapped around his neck. They forced his head back. They breathed in.

Harry's body started to spasm.

Chrys felt dizzy. Her vision was fading. She flailed her arms.

Her mother screamed, and so did she.

_Not Harry. Don't take Harry. Take me instead…_

She made a final effort and threw herself forward. She knocked Harry flat on the ground, covering him with her body. The dementors hissed, but her head felt a little clearer. Harry had stopped twitching. His eyes were closed. Her fingers clutched around his pulse and she breathed. He was alive! Her heart pounded in her ears.

She rolled off of Harry, staring up at the dementors as they drew closer.

She spotted her wand and grabbed it. She had no time to move. She lay on her back and pointed her wand up.

"_Expecto patronum!"_

A silver tiger leapt up into the air. Chrys nearly dropped her wand again. The big cat snarled and slashed at the dementors, forcing them back.

Her mother's screaming stopped. Warmth bleed back into her. Her head felt like a ton of bricks, but she managed to sit up.

They were still surrounded.

The tiger circled her, hissing at the dementors every time they tried to get closer. There were too many dementors. If the tiger stopped for one moment, all would be lost. Chrys was stuck, and she didn't know how long she could keep this up. She looked at Harry and Sirius. They were alive… but did they still have their souls? '_A fate worse than death_,' Lupin had said.

The cat's light started to dim. Chrys was losing her concentration.

And then a nearly blinding light streaked past her.

The silver stag charged at the dementors, breaking their ranks. Together, the stag and the tiger chased them off into the night.

Chrys waited for a moment, and then lowered her wand. Her head was swimming. Her vision was fading.

She looked in the direction where the stag had come from. On the far side of the lake, she thought she saw a familiar face.


	21. Of Time and Threes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fudged up and accidentally posted the last chapter before this one. Sorry if anyone saw it and it confused them. The last chapter will be back up next week.

Chrys woke in the hospital wing.

She tried to sit up, but her bones ached and her head was too heavy.

She looked around. Harry's blurry form was sleeping in the bed to her left. She squinted and watched his chest rise and fall.

Madam Pomfrey was tending to a bed across from them. Chrys opened her mouth, but closed it again when she heard voices out in the hall.

"Shocking business," Fudge said. "Shocking—miracle none of them died… never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape."

"Thank you, Minister," Snape said. Chrys frowned.

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say," Fudge continued. "First Class, if I can wrangle it!"

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there… Black's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact, it was the children."

"No!"

"Black bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions…" Snape said. Chrys blinked. That didn't sound like Snape at all. "On the other hand, their interference permitted Black to escape… they obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed." That sounded more like him. But—Sirius escaped? He was okay? "They've got away with a great deal before now… I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves… and of course, the Potters have always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the Headmaster—"

"Ah, well, Snape…" Fudge said, sounding uncomfortable. "The Potter twins, you know… we've all got a bit of a blind spot where they are concerned."

"And yet—is it good for them to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat them like any other students," Snape lied. "And any other student would be suspended—at the very least—for leading their friends into such danger. Consider, Minister—against all school rules—after all the precautions put in place for their protection—out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer—" Chrys nearly got out of bed at that, but Hermione caught her attention from the bed to her right. She shook her head wildly and put a finger to her lips. "—And I have reason to believe Mr. Potter has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally as well—"

"Well, well… we shall see, Snape, we shall see…" Fudge said noncommittally. "What amazes me the most is the behavior of the dementors… you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister… by the time I had come around, they were heading back to their positions at the entrances…"

"Extraordinary. And yet Black and the Potters—"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally," Snape told him. Chrys shared a worried look with Hermione. On her other side, she heard Harry stirring. He blinked groggily at her.

And then Madam Pomfrey turned. "Ah, you're awake!" She said, looking around at them.

"How's Ron?" Harry and Hermione said together.

"He'll live," Madam Pomfrey told them. Chrys craned her neck and spotted a blot of red hair behind Madam Pomfrey. Chrys found her glasses on the bedside table and put them on. "As for you three… you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're—" Harry sat up, put on his glasses and picked up his wand. "—Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"I need to see the headmaster," Harry said firmly.

Madam Pomfrey's eyes softened. "Potter… it's alright. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The dementors will be preforming the kiss any moment now—"

"What?" Harry and Chrys shouted. They and Hermione jumped out of bed. Chrys fell over.

Fudge and Snape quickly entered the room.

"Chrysanthemum…" Fudge stared at her as Madam Pomfrey helped her onto her feet. He looked around and saw Harry standing stiffly, gripping his wand. "Harry—what is this? You should stay in bed." He turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Did they have any chocolate?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him blankly.

"Minister, listen!" Harry said. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's—"

Fudge shook his head, smiling for some reason.

"Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal. Lie back down, now, we've got everything under control—"

"You haven't!" Harry shouted. "You've got the wrong man!"

"You don't understand…" Chrys tried to move forward, but Madam Pomfrey's grip was too tight.

Hermione rushed to Harry's side. "Minister, listen, please. I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and—"

"You see, Minister?" Snape said. "This is the same story Miss Granger tried to tell me earlier. Clearly, they have been confounded. Black's done a very good job on them…"

"We're not confounded!" Harry roared.

"Minister! Professor!" Madam Pomfrey snapped, finally letting go of Chrys to rest her hands on her hips. "I must insist you leave. These children are my patients and they should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed," Harry argued. "I'm trying to tell them what happened! If they'll just listen—" Madam Pomfrey shoved a large piece of chocolate into his mouth and then forced him back into bed. Chrys nearly laughed.

"Now, please, Minister," Madam Pomfrey tried again. "These children need care. Please leave—"

The door opened and Dumbledore looked around at them.

Harry swallowed his chocolate, his eyes brightening at the sight of the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black—"

"For heaven's sake!" Madam Pomfrey cried. "Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist—"

"My apologies, Poppy," Dumbledore interrupted politely. "But I need a word with the children. I have just been talking to Sirius Black—"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind?" Snape hissed. "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive—"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," Dumbledore said, studying Snape closely.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" Snape asked. "Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds."

"That's because you were knocked out, Professor!" Hermione told him. "You didn't arrive in time to hear—"

"Miss Granger, hold your tongue!"

Hermione flinched and took a step back.

Chrys growled. "Talk to her like that again and I'll—"

"You will what?" Snape challenged.

"Now, now, Snape," Fudge said, eyeing him warily. "The children have been disturbed. They are not in their right minds. We must make allowances—"

"I would like to speak to Harry, Chrysanthemum, and Hermione alone," Dumbledore said. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy—please leave us."

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey gasped. "They need treatment, they need rest—"

"This cannot wait," Dumbledore told her. "I must insist."

Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips together and strode over to her office in the back of the room, slamming the door behind her. Fudge pulled out a gold pocket watch and studied it.

"The dementors should have arrived by now," he thought. Chrys let out a strangled noise, which Fudge either didn't hear, or ignored. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs."

He held the door open for Snape, but Snape was stone still, staring at Dumbledore.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape asked hoarsely.

"I wish to speak to Harry, Chrysanthemum, and Hermione alone," Dumbledore repeated. Snape stepped closer to him.

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen…" He whispered. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill _me_?"

"My memory is good as it ever was, Severus," Dumbledore told him. Snape spun around and practically ran out the door. Fudge stood there awkwardly for a moment before leaving and shutting the door behind them.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth, we saw Pettigrew—" Harry said.

"He escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf—" Hermione said.

"He's a rat!" Harry said. Chrys followed them like a tennis match.

"Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off—" Hermione said.

"Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius—"

They quieted as Dumbledore held up his hand.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time. There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word—and the word of three thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Minister that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper."

"Professor Lupin can tell you—" Harry started.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late. Sirius will be worse than dead," Dumbledore told them. Chrys clenched her jaw to stop from speaking. "I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little—and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends—"

"But—" Harry tried again.

"_Listen to me, Harry_," Dumbledore said. "It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours."

Chrys couldn't stop herself. "Snape is—"

"And Sirius has not acted like an innocent man," Dumbledore continued over her. "The attack on the Fat Lady—entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife… without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius sentence."

"Do you believe us?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore said. Harry stared hopefully up at him. "But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic…" Harry deflated.

"There's got to be something we can do," Chrys said, determined.

Dumbledore smiled slightly at her.

"What we need…" Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "… Is more _time_."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh!"

Harry and Chrys exchanged a confused look.

"Now, pay attention," Dumbledore continued. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor—thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this—you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law—you know what is at stake—you—must—not—be—seen." Hermione swallowed and nodded. "Good." Dumbledore walked over to the door. "I'm going to lock you in. It is…" He glanced at his watch. "… Five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" Harry repeated as the door closed. "Three turns? What's he talking about. What are we supposed to do?"

Hermione was unraveling something from her neck. It was a long gold chain, folded over three times. "Come here, you two," she said. "Quick!" They moved towards her. "Here…" She looped the chain around their necks too. "Ready?"

"For what?" Chrys asked.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked, staring at the pendent she held between her fingers. It was a small hourglass. Hermione turned it three times.  
The room spun. Chrys' stomach was doing summersaults. Her heart pounded in her ears.

And then everything stilled again.

Harry looked around. They were standing in the castle entrance hall. The front doors were open, sunlight streaming in. Hermione pulled the chain off Chrys and Harry's necks, carefully folding the chain around herself three times and tucking it back under her robes.

"Hermione, what—" Harry started.

"In here!" She grabbed each of them by the arm and shoved them into a broom closet. Then she squeezed in with them. Chrys stepped backwards into a bucket. Hermione pulled the door shut after her.

"What—how—Hermione, what happened?" Harry asked.

"We've gone back in time," Hermione whispered. "Three hours back."

"Three turns…" Chrys recalled. Hermione nodded. Chrys squeaked. "Wait—time travel is real?" Hermione nodded again. "That's so—"

"Keep your voice down!" Hermione warned her. Harry looked a bit dazed.

"This is all some sort of bizarre dream…" He thought. Chrys pinched him. He yelped.

Hermione shushed them again. "Someone's coming!" She pressed her ear to the door. "I think—I think it might be us… footsteps across the hall… yes, that should be us going down to Hagrid's!"

"You're telling me," Harry whispered. "That we're here in this cupboard, and we're out there too?"

"Yes… I'm sure it's us," Hermione thought. "It doesn't sound like more than four people… and we're walking slowly because we're under the Invisibility Cloak—we've gone down the front steps." Hermione leaned against the wall for a moment, her brow furrowed.

Harry stared at her. "Where did you _get_ that hourglass thing?"

"It's called a Time-Turner. And I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back."

"Oh. That's what she wanted to talk to you about…" Chrys realized. "That's why she kicked me and Harry out of the room after she spoke to us about the dementors on the train…" She blinked. "And that's how you've been getting to all your classes!" Hermione nodded.

"…How come you never said anything?" Harry wondered, sounding a bit hurt.

Hermione winced. "Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies… but…" She shook her head. "I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?"

Harry stared at her anxious face. "…There must be something that happened around now that he wants us to change," he figured. "What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid's three hours ago…"

"It _is_ three hours ago, and we _are_ walking down to Hagrid's," Hermione corrected him. "We just heard ourselves leaving…" Harry frowned and rubbed his forehead.

"Buckbeak!" Chrys said suddenly. "Buckbeak was killed three hours ago—I mean, he's about to be killed, soon."

Harry's eyes lit up. "That's it! Dumbledore said we could save more than one innocent life—Chrys, he wanted us to save Buckbeak!"

"But…" Hermione frowned. "How will that help Sirius?"

"Dumbledore said—he told us where the window is—the window of Flitwick's office," Harry continued excitedly. "We've got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak—they can escape together!"

Chrys' stomach twisted at the mention of flying. But, if it was to save Sirius…

"If we manage that without being seen, it'll be a miracle!" Hermione thought.

"Well, we've got to try, haven't we?" Harry thought. Chrys nodded. Harry pressed his ear to the door. "Doesn't sound like anyone's there… come on, let's go."

Harry opened the cupboard door. They hurried through the empty entrance hall and onto the grounds. The sun was setting—again. Chrys looked up at the shadowy Forbidden Forest and wondered how Lupin was doing—going to be doing? She shook her head.

Hermione glanced back at the castle.

"If anyone's looking out the window—"

"We'll run for it," Harry told her simply. "Straight into the forest, alright? We'll have to hide behind a tree or something and keep a lookout—"

"Okay, but we'll go around by the greenhouses!" Hermione pointed. "We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid's front door, or we'll see us! We must be nearly at Hagrid's by now!"

"Right…" Harry said doubtfully. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Hurry!" Chrys told them. They sped up down the hill, cutting through Professor Sprout's vegetable garden. Hermione held up her hand. They waited for a moment behind the greenhouses and then took off again.

They stopped behind the trees on the edge of the forest.

Hermione leaned against a tree and tried to catch her breath.

"Right… We need to sneak over to Hagrid's—and _keep out of sight_!"

Harry nodded. They moved along, keeping to the shadows. As they came up behind Hagrid's hut, they heard a knock on the door. Hagrid opened the door.

"It's us," the Harry-from-the-past told him. The Harry from the present stiffened at the sound of his own voice.

"Invisibility Cloak," Chrys-from-the-past explained.

"Let us in so we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid said, ushering them in nonetheless. He closed the door behind them.

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done," present-Harry thought.

"The weirdest thing we've done _so far_," Chrys amended.

"Let's move along a bit," Hermione said. "We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!"

They came up to the pumpkin patch, where Buckbeak was tied to the fence.

Harry looked around and saw no one. "Now?"

"No!" Hermione hissed. "If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"

Harry frowned. "That's going to give us about sixty seconds."

Chrys took a deep breath. "Let me do it," she told them. They looked at her. She shrugged. "Buckbeak likes me the best." Harry rolled his eyes.

"You—" He was cut off by the sound of something breaking in Hagrid's hut.

"That's Hagrid breaking the milk jug," Hermione figured. "I'm going to find Scabbers in a moment—" Hermione's past self screeched.

Harry straightened up. "Hermione—what if we—we just run in there and grab Pettigrew—"

"No!" Hermione shook her head wildly. "Don't you understand? We're breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we're seen—"

"We'd only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!" Harry argued.

Hermione let out a frustrated breath.

"Harry, what do you think you'd do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid's house?"

"I'd—I'd think I'd gone mad," Harry realized.

"Or that there was some Dark Magic going on," Chrys thought.

"Exactly!" Hermione nodded. "You wouldn't understand. You might even attack yourself! Don't you see? Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time… loads of them ended up killing their past of future selves by mistake!"

"That's cheery," Chrys said. She looked at Harry.

He huffed and threw his arms up. "Okay! It was just an idea, I just thought—"

Hermione pulled at his arm and pointed up the hill.

Dumbledore, Fudge, the ancient wrinkly Committee member, and the murderous Macnair were coming down the hill.

"We're about to come out!"

The Harry, Chrys, Ron, and Hermione of the past came hurrying out the back door, pushed along by Hagrid. Buckbeak squawked nervously.

"It's okay," Hagrid said. "Go on. Get going." They protested, but Hagrid shooed them away. Hermione threw the cloak over them and they left.

The executioner knocked on Hagrid's door.

Hagrid let them inside.

"Where is the beast?" Macnair asked.

"Out—outside," Hagrid told him.

Macnair glanced out the window, watching Buckbeak for a moment.

"We—er—have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid," Fudge said. "I'll make it quick. Then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you're supposed to listen too, that's procedure…" Macnair stepped away from the window.

"Wait here," Chrys told Harry and Hermione. Harry opened his mouth, but she was already running up to the pumpkin patch.

"_It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall be executed on the sixth of June at sundown_," Fudge read.

Buckbeak saw Chrys and dug his hooves into the ground, as if getting ready to charge. Chrys met his eyes and he paused.

"Hey, handsome," she whispered, smiling. "Remember me?" She bowed. Buckbeak bowed back. "Okay…" She reached over and started to undo the knot tying him to the fence.

"…_Sentenced to execution by beheading_," Fudge continued. Chrys swallowed. "_To be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair._"

Chrys slipped the rope off the fence. "Okay, Beaky, time to go." She tugged the rope gently in the direction of the forest. Buckbeak refused to budge.

"…_As witnessed below. _Hagrid, you sign here."

"Come on…" Chrys pulled again.

"Well, let's get this over with," the ancient Committee member said. Hagrid let out a strangled sob. "…Hagrid, perhaps it would be better if you stay inside—"

"No," Hagrid said. "I want—I want to be with him. I don't want him to be alone."

Chrys pulled a licorice wand out of the pocket and held it up.

Buckbeak considered it. She put it up close to his beak. He nibbled at it and then made a go for the rest. She pulled back from him, walking backwards towards the forest.

He followed.

"One moment, please," Dumbledore said. "Macnair, you need to sign too."

Harry and Hermione were beckoning Chrys to move faster. She took off at a jog. Buckbeak followed reluctantly. As soon as they were under the cover of the trees, Hagrid's door burst open.

Hermione gripped Harry's arm. Chrys held her breath. Even Buckbeak stopped trying to get at the licorice for a moment.

"…Where is it?" The committee member asked. "Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here!" Macnair said. "I saw it! It was here!"

"How extraordinary," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Beaky?" Hagrid said. At the sound of his voice, Buckbeak pulled at his rope. Harry and Hermione grabbed it. Chrys stuffed the licorice into his beak. Macnair let out a cry of frustration. They heard the thud of his axe. Earlier, Chrys thought it had been the sound of Buckbeak's head being chopped off. She poked her head around the tree and saw that Macnair had swung his axe into Hagrid's fence. Hermione pulled her sharply back under cover. "Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak—he's _gone_! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, you clever boy!" Buckbeak looked up as he chewed at his licorice.

"Someone untied him!" Macnair thought. "We should search the grounds—"

"Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?" Dumbledore reasoned. "Search the skies, if you will… Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

"O-of course," Hagrid stammered happily. "Come in, come in."

They waited for the sound of footsteps to retreat and the door to close.

"Now what?" Harry whispered.

"We'll have to hide in here…" Hermione looked around nervously. "We need to wait until they've gone back to the castle. Then we wait until it's safe to fly Buckbeak up to Sirius' window. He won't be there for another couple of hours… Oh, this is going to be so difficult…"

Harry nodded slowly. "We're going to have to move. We've got to be able to see the Whomping Willow, or we won't know what's going on."

"Okay." Chrys wrapped the end of Buckbeak's rope around her wrist.

"But we've got to keep out of sight," Hermione reminded them.

"Yes, Hermione," Chrys and Harry said in unison.

They continued through the forest as the sun sunk further down.

"There's Ron!" Harry said. Ron ran over the grass, shouting at Crookshanks.

"Get away from him—get away—Scabbers, come _here_—"

"And here we are," Chrys said as she, Harry, and Hermione came running after him. Ron jumped on Scabbers.

"Gotcha!" Ron cried. Crookshanks swatted at him. "Get off, you stinking cat—"

"There's Sirius!" Harry watched the big black dog run at them. Sirius clamped down on Ron's leg.

Chrys shook her head.

"He really could've handled that better. If Sirius had just tried to talk to us—"

"I probably still would've tried to kill him," Harry said grimly. Chrys frowned. Hermione glanced nervously from one sibling to the other.

Ron was dragged through the hole.

Harry flinched as the Willow smacked Chrys. "Ouch. Looks even worse from here."

"Chrys!" The Harry-from-three-hours-ago ran to her.

"This is so weird," the current Harry thought.

The tree froze. "That was Crookshanks pressing the knot," Hermione figured.

"And there we go…" Harry said as the rest of them followed the cat through the hole. "We're in."

A moment later, Dumbledore, Fudge, Macnair and the committee member came out of Hagrid's hut, heading back to the castle.

"Right after we'd gone down the passage! If only Dumbledore had come with us," Hermione thought. Harry shook his head.

"Macnair and Fudge would've come too," he pointed out. "I bet you anything Fudge would've told Macnair to murder Sirius on the spot…"

Chrys grimaced. "No bet."

Shortly after this, another figure came running down the hill.

"Lupin," Chrys breathed. Lupin grabbed a branch and pressed the knot. The tree went still and he slipped into the tunnel.

Harry sighed. "If he'd only grabbed the cloak. It's just lying there."

Chrys stiffened. "It's my fault. I dropped it."

"Well, the Whomping Willow was thrashing you at the time," Hermione reminded her.

"We can fix it," Harry thought. "I'll just dash out and grab it, and Snape wouldn't—"

"Harry, we mustn't be seen!" Hermione reminded him.

He turned and glared at her. "How can you stand this? Just standing here and watching it happened?" He looked around. "There's no one here. I'm going to grab the cloak."

"Harry, no!" Hermione grabbed the back of his robes just as Hagrid came out of his house.

He was singing, swinging a large bottle from his hands. Buckbeak looked up. "See? See what would have happened? We've got to keep out of sight!" Buckbeak suddenly moved forward. Chrys held his rope hard.

"Buckbeak, no!" She said. Buckbeak struggled, pulling her out of the trees. Harry and Hermione grabbed onto the rope and the three of them held him back. He struggled until Hagrid was out of sight. Buckbeak lowered his head. "It's okay…" Chrys stroked his beak. "I'm sure you'll see him again… someday."

The next person to come down the hill was Snape. He paused in front of the tree, spotting the cloak on the ground. Harry clenched his fists as Snape picked it up.

"Get your filthy hands off of it," Harry muttered. Hermione shushed him.

Chrys shook her head. Snape grabbed the branch Lupin had used and froze the tree. Then he flung the cloak around himself and disappeared.

"So that's it," Hermione said quietly. "We're all down there… and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again." She sat down with her back against a tree, hugging her knees to her chest. "Harry… Chrys… what happened with the dementors?" Harry froze. Chrys frowned. "I saw them move towards the lake—there must have been hundreds… and then Snape went after you…" Her brow furrowed. "But he told the Minister that by the time he reached you the dementors were already leaving, and you were all unconscious."

Harry frowned. "Well, I _was_ unconscious." He looked at Chrys. "The last thing I remember was you tackling me." He studied her closely. "You did it, didn't you? You cast a patronus? —A real one? It must have been powerful to drive all those dementors off."

Chrys slowly nodded.

"Yeah… it was like the one you cast during the match against Ravenclaw," she told him. He looked both impressed and annoyed.

"That doesn't count. That was against Malfoy, not an actual dementor, much less hundreds of them…"

"Look, I am happy I finally managed it—but if you need to be on the brink of death for me to do it, then it's not worth," she said hoarsely. Her chest hurt. "Harry, they almost got your soul." Hermione gasped. "So, you see, I didn't really have a choice. I _had_ to do it." Chrys scratched the side of her face. "Though, I'm not really sure _how_ I did it. One minute I was fading, the next minute this giant tiger burst out of my wand—"

"Hang on—what do you mean _tiger_?" Harry interrupted.

"Well, the more solid ones are animals sometimes," she explained. "Like how yours was a deer at the Quidditch match." Harry's brow furrowed. "You didn't see it?"

He shrugged. "I saw something silver, but I was more focused on the snitch…"

"Quidditch," Chrys muttered, shaking her head.

"I was a bit distracted by the match as well," Hermione admitted. "It was a deer?"

Chrys nodded. "Big antlers." She motioned antlers out of her head.

"It was a stag, then," Hermione said. They looked at her. "Only male deer have antlers."

Harry shook his head. "A tiger sounds a lot cooler than a stag."

"Maybe," Chrys agreed. "But… I'm sure it's just as powerful." Harry didn't look as certain.

"Well, yours must have been very powerful magic, Chrys," Hermione figured. "Against all of those dementors…"

"Well…" Chrys said slowly, glancing at Harry. "Actually—"

Buckbeak cried out in excitement as he unearthed a warm from the dirt. Hermione looked around nervously. "Buckbeak, you've got to be quiet!"

"It's okay…" Chrys reached over and patted his side. "Good job, Buckbeak. Good job finding that worm…"

Over an hour passed in silence. Both Harry and Hermione seemed to be deep in thought. Chrys spent the time poking in the dirt with a stick, occasionally holding up a worm for Buckbeak.

The last of the sun disappeared from the sky, leaving only cold and dark.

It was hard to see the Willow now, but they could just make out the shapes of the branches.

Then Lupin, Ron, and Pettigrew came out of the tunnel. Harry and Hermione leapt to their feet. Buckbeak looked up in interest. Harry stared up at the sky.

"Any minute now… and then Lupin will transform and Pettigrew will…" His face twisted.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "We've got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do…"

"So we're just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again?"

Hermione frowned. "How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?" She snapped. "There's nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius—we're not supposed to do anything else!"

"All right," Harry grunted. Hermione let out a breath.

"Here it comes," Chrys said, as the clouds drifted away from the moon. There was a howl.

"There goes Lupin," Hermione said. "He's transforming—"

"We've got to move!" Harry said suddenly. Hermione shook her head.

"We mustn't, I keep telling you—"

"Not to interfere! Lupin's going to run into the forest, right at us!"

"Shit," Chrys said, as Hermione gasped.

"Quick!" Hermione cried. "Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide? The dementors will be coming any moment—"

"Back to Hagrid's!" Harry said. "It's empty now—come on!"

He took off at a run. Chrys was having trouble getting Buckbeak to pick up his pace—until they neared Hagrid's hut

As soon as Buckbeak saw the house, he galloped at full speed, jerking Chrys along with him. Harry opened the door and they piled inside. He locked the door behind them.

Fang howled. "Oh, be quiet," Chrys said tiredly. Her wrist hurt. She unraveled the rope and rubbed at it. "It's only us, Fang." Fang seemed to realize this and came over to slobber on Hermione. She scratched distractedly behind his ears.

"That was really close," she breathed.

"Yeah…" Harry glanced out the window. Buckbeak folded his wings and sat down in front of the fire.

"Right." Chrys walked up behind him. Outside it was quiet, for now. "Hermione, you watch Buckbeak, me and Harry will stand watch outside."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why? There's a werewolf out there!"

"…Dumbledore said Lupin was heading deep into the forest," Chrys reminded her. "Um, but, we do need to keep an eye on things… you know, to see when it's time to rescue Sirius…"

"I suppose so." Hermione pursed her lips. "Well… be careful."

Chrys and Harry stepped outside. They stood in silence for a moment before he turned to her. "What are you thinking?" He asked under his breath.

She looked out towards the lake, frowning.

"I'm thinking… we don't have much time to get to the lake."

Harry blinked at her. "Chrys, what—"

She started to run. She heard him grumble in frustration before taking off after her.

She stopped on the edge of the lake, crouching behind some rocks.

"This should be the spot," she thought.

"Hermione's going to kill us," Harry said, resignedly. "We're not supposed to interfere—"

Chrys snorted. "When have you ever given a damn about what you're supposed to do?" She looked out across the lake. Sirius collapsed. She and Harry came to his side a moment later. And then came the dementors. On this side of the lake, they were far enough away not to be affected, but Chrys still shivered. Glints of silver shone across the lake, as Harry tried to defend them. Then the dementors closed in, and the light when out.

It was dark for a moment, and then…

"That's…" Harry stared in amazement as the silver tiger leapt from her wand and kept the dementors at bay. "Chrys, you're brilliant."

She smiled nervously. "I'm not the only one," she said. He looked at her questioningly. She took a deep breath. "Harry, my patronus wasn't enough. I couldn't chase the dementors off by myself—as always, I needed your help." His brow furrowed.

"Chrys, I was passed out."

She nodded. "You were, but you aren't now," she pointed out. His eyes widened. "Harry, I saw it. Just when I was ready to give up, your stag came and saved the day. Before I blacked out, I saw you across the lake. For a moment there, I thought I'd gone mad… but now that I know time traveling exists—it all makes sense."

"You… you saw me?"

She nodded. "You're stronger than you think you are… you always have been. But, hurry—we haven't got much time!"

He jumped up and raised his wand.

"_Expecto patronum_!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. He squinted as the silver tag burst from the tip of his wand. It was almost too bright to look at. Chrys shielded her eyes as it galloped across the lake, chasing off the dementors. Harry stared in awe as his patronus came back to him. "Chrys, it's Prongs…"

"Our dad," Chrys whispered. The stag seemed to look straight at them. Harry reached out his hand, trembling. The stag disappeared.

Chrys heard the sound of hooves. She turned.

Hermione was racing to them, dragging Buckbeak after her.

"I knew it!" She shrieked. "Chrysanthemum Potter—I _knew_ you were up to no good!" She looked at Harry. "And you! What have you done?"

"I just saved our lives," Harry said blankly. He glanced across the lake. "Just… bend down behind this rock and we'll explain." Hermione frowned, but joined them crouching down. Buckbeak looked around and decided to join them. He folded his wings and looked at Chrys expectantly. She gave him a piece of licorice. "So…" Harry ran his hand through his hair.

"Harry and me did it together," Chrys cut in. "It was a two man job. The me over there…" She pointed at the other side of the lake. "… Cast one patronus, and the Harry over here cast another."

"But you could have been seen!" Hermione snapped at Harry.

"Well, yeah, I saw him," Chrys told her. Hermione frowned. "It's fine, Hermione. We didn't kill ourselves. We're alive. Thanks to Harry…"

Hermione looked back and forth between them.

"I can't believe it. Both of you cast such advanced magic, against incredible odds…"

"Mine was a fluke," Harry figured. Chrys rolled her eyes. "I didn't even need to think of something happy. It's just… Chrys saw me do it, so I must have done it. Does that make sense?"

"I don't know—" Hermione stiffened. "Look at Snape!" They peeked over the rock and saw Snape conjuring stretchers and levitating them up. "He woke up when… well, I was trying to move him and Ron at the same time and I may have, er, dropped him." She flushed slightly. "Anyway, he conjured a stretcher for Ron and pointed me at the castle. I wanted to go with him, of course, but I was worried about Ron…" She looked at her watch. "Right." She checked to make sure Snape was out of sight and then stood up. "It's nearly time. We've got about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. We've got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anybody realizes we're missing…"

Chrys tapped her foot as Hermione's eyes stayed glued to her watch. Harry stared at the moon. "Look!" Hermione said suddenly. "Who's that? Someone's coming back out of the castle!"

"Macnair!" Harry realized. Chrys frowned. "The executioner! He's gone to get the dementors. This is it!" He looked at Buckbeak and then at them. "Okay, so I should go up front and then Chrys, and then Hermione." Chrys clenched her jaw. It was for Sirius. She could do this.

"Actually. I can't," Hermione said. Harry and Chrys stared at her.

"Hermione, I'm scared too," Chrys told her. "But—"

"No, it's not that. Well, I am a bit nervous, but, what I meant was—we're three people, plus Sirius. That's too much weight for Buckbeak to carry," she figured.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"You're right… Hermione, can you sneak back into the castle without anyone seeing you?"

She titled her head. "Yes, I think so." She smiled slightly. "I've been practing all year, you know." Her expression went serious again. "You take care of Sirius. I'll meet you in the Hospital Wing—but you need to be there at precisely the right time, or else everything falls apart!" She checked their watches against hers. "Please, please be on time."

"We will," Chrys said weakly. Hermione gave her a quick hug and then ran off into the darkness.

"…Let's go," Harry said. He helped Chrys onto Buckbeak, and then slipped up in front of her. "You ready?"

"No. But let's do it anyway."

Harry laughed nervously. Then he gently tapped his knees against Buckbeak's side. Buckbeak took off. Chrys made the mistake of looking down. Her stomach lurched. She pressed her head against Harry's back and squeezed her eyes shut. Buckbeak's wings beat loudly in her ears. The wind whipped loose strands of her hair against her face.

And then the air stilled. Buckbeak was gliding gently forward. Chrys hesitantly opened her eyes. Harry watched the windows pass. "Whoa!" He pulled on Buckbeak's rope. The hippogriff slowed and hovered next to West Tower. "He's here!" Harry reached around Buckbeak's flapping wings and tapped the glass.

Sirius looked up. His jaw dropped. He jumped up from his chair and ran to the window. He pulled, but it wouldn't open.

"Stand back," Chrys mouthed at him. She pointed her wand at the window. "_Alohomora!"_ The window burst open.

"How…" Sirius stared at the hippogriff.

"Get on," Harry told him. Sirius hesitated. Chrys glanced her watch.

"We're running out of time."

"You've got to get out of here—the dementors are coming—Macnair's gone to get them," Harry told him.

Sirius braced himself on the window frame and somehow managed to get one leg around Buckbeak. He held lightly onto Chrys' shoulders.

"Okay, Harry," she said. "Let's go!"

"Come on, Buckbeak! Up to the tower!" Harry directed Buckbeak further up. They landed on the battlements. Harry panted as he slid off the hippogriff's back. Then he held his arms out to Chrys. She took a deep breath and jumped. He set her down gently, looking up at Sirius. "Sirius, you'd better go, quick. They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find you're gone."

Buckbeak pawed at the ground, seeming to sense Harry's urgency.

"It'll be all right," Chrys told him, patting his side. "Sirius is going to take care of you." She looked up at Sirius. "Won't you?"

"I..." Sirius stared at them. "What happened to the others? Ron, and Hermione? Ron's leg…"

"He's going to be okay," Harry told him. "Madam Pomfrey will put him right."

Sirius swallowed. "How can I ever thank—"

"Go!" Chrys and Harry said together. Sirius gripped Buckbeak's rope and nudged him towards the ledge.

"We'll see each other again," he said determinedly. And the man and the hippogriff disappeared into the clouds.


	22. Of Parting and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here is the actual last chapter of this. I am partway done writing Book 4, but want to get more done before posting, so it might be a while. For now, thanks so much for your lovely response, and please stay safe during this time!

"How much time?" Harry asked. Chrys tore her eyes away from the sky and looked down at her watch.

"Ten minutes."

Harry nodded. "We'd better go."

They moved down and down the spiral staircase. Her head was spinning by the time they reached the first floor. Luckily, Harry was still alert.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She held her breath, back flat against the wall as Fudge and Snape walked down the adjacent corridor talking.

"I only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties," Snape said. "The kiss will be preformed immediately?" Chrys frowned.

"As soon as Macnair returns with the dementors," Fudge told him. "This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the _Daily Prophet_ that we've got him at last… I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape… and once the young Potters are back in their right minds, I expect they will want to tell the _Prophet_ exactly how you saved them…" Harry clenched his jaw.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the twins took off again.

Hermione came rushing around the corner, nearly barreling into them. "Oh!" She gasped. "Hide! Quickly! Peeves is coming!" Harry pulled open the door to a nearby classroom. Peeves was singing as he moved down the corridor. "Oh, he's horrible. I bet he's all excited because the dementors are going to finishing off Sirius…" She looked at her watch. "Three minutes!"

Harry opened the door and they ran.

"Hermione—what'll happen—if we don't get back inside—before Dumbledore locks the door?" He asked breathlessly.

Hermione moaned. "I don't want to think about it!"

They slowed as they reached the turn before the Hospital Wing. Chrys peeked around the corner. Dumbledore was shutting the door.

"Professor!" Chrys called out as they ran up to him.

Dumbledore turned and smiled benignly. "Well?"

"We did it!" Harry told him. "Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak…"

"Well done. I think…" He tilted his head. "Yes, I think you've gone too—get inside—I'll lock you in." Harry, Chrys, and Hermione slipped back into their beds.

Dumbledore locked the door behind them.

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office.

"Did I hear the headmaster leaving?" She glared at the door. "Am I allowed to look after my patients now?"

"Well, actually, I never did get any chocolate," Chrys said.

Madam Pomfrey stood, watching them as they ate. Chrys was on her fourth piece as Hermione nibbled nervously on her second. Harry was chewing very slowly.

And then someone screamed. Madam Pomfrey blinked.

"What was that?" She wondered. The angry voices got closer. Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Really—they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"

Harry straightened up. "He must have disapparated, Severus," Fudge said. "We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out—"

"He didn't disapparate!" Snape bellowed. "You can't apparate or disapparate inside this castle!" Hermione nodded to herself. "This—has—something—to—do—with—the—Potters!"

"Severus, be reasonable," Fudge said. "Harry and Chrysanthemum have been in the Hospital Wing—" The footsteps were at the door now. "—And look, the door has been locked."

It burst open.

Snape stomped over to Harry and Chrys. "Out with it! What did you two do?"

"Professor Snape!" Madam Pomfrey protested. "Control yourself!"

"See here, Snape," Fudge said. "The door was lock—"

"They helped him escape, I know it!" Snape hissed.

"Calm yourself, man!" Fudge shouted. "You're talking nonsense!"

"You don't know them!" Snape yelled. "They did it, I know they did—"

"That will do, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey…" He turned to her. "Have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" Madam Pomfrey said, offended. "I would have heard them!"

"Well, there you have it, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Chrysanthemum are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood, breathing heavily, eyes flickering from Fudge to Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled at him.

Fudge eyed Snape as he left.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," he thought. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."

"Oh, he's not unbalanced," Dumbledore said. Chrys opened her mouth and then closed it again. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Fudge huffed. "He's not the only one! The _Daily Prophet'_s going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that hippogriff's escape to get out, and I'll be a laughingstock!" He took a deep breath. "Well, I'd better go notify the Ministry."

"And the dementors?" Dumbledore asked. "They'll be removed from the school, I trust?"

"Oh yes, they'll have to go," Fudge said distractedly. "Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on innocent children... completely out of control… no, I'll have them packed back to Azkaban tonight… Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance."

"Hagrid would like that," Dumbledore thought. Chrys beamed. He smiled back at her before he and Fudge left the room. Madam Pomfrey locked the door immediately after them.

Shortly after she returned to her office, Ron sat up, groaning and rubbing his head. Hermione let out a breath of relief.

"Ron!" Chrys said happily. She came over to sit on the side of his bed.

"Chrys?" He squinted confusedly at her. "Why are we in here? Where's Sirius? Where's Lupin? What's going on?" Harry grinned and took a bite of chocolate.

Chrys laughed. "It's sort of a long story."

The next day, the four of them left the Hospital Wing.

"Where is everybody?" Chrys looked around at the empty halls.

"There's a Hogsmeade visit today," Hermione said, glancing nervously at Harry.

He looked slightly amused. "Don't worry, Hermione. No illegal activities for me… for now… besides…" He grimaced. "We've lost the Invisibility Cloak."

"No!" Ron said. Harry looked at Chrys.

"I must have lost it in the confusion with dementors," she said apologetically.

"Well, let's go look for it, then," Hermione said determinedly. Harry blinked at her.

"You know—you could go to Hogsmeade. I don't mind, really."

"I don't feel like it," Ron said. "A walk around the lake sounds good."

Harry smiled. "Okay."

Chrys frowned. "I'll meet you there. There's something I have to check on first."

Harry looked confused. "Are you sure—"

"I'll see you soon!" She waved at them as she started to jog back down the corridor.

She found Snape in his office.

His glare was even more deadly than usual.

"You need to leave," he said immediately.

"I need to ask you something," she said. He stood up from his desk.

"I don't care. Leave, _now_."

"Do you have my father's invisibility cloak?"

Snape's mouth curled into a sneer.

"You seem to have a habit of misplacing your belongings, Miss Potter."

"I'd like it back, please," she said, trying to project calm as her heart beat wildly.

"Well, I would have liked Sirius Black to get what he deserved last night. Life is filled with disappointment."

"He did get what he deserved," Chrys thought. "He deserved freedom."

"You—" Snape started towards her. He raised his hand. She flinched but held her ground.

"What are you going to do—hit me? —Curse me? Go ahead—I can take it."

He froze. All color drained from his already pale face. His hand shook as he pointed out the door. Chrys took the hint and left.

She sat on a bench in the courtyard, leaning her elbows against her knees.

"Chrys," a voice said. She looked up and smiled distractedly at Lupin.

"How are you feel—" She cut herself off when she saw the battered suitcase he was holding.

"I've had worse nights," Lupin said, answering her unfinished question. "Mind if I join you?" She scooted over. He sat next to her. "I came to say goodbye." She frowned. "I just spoke to your brother. I gave him the map—but I do expect him to share it equally with you. James would've been very excited to see how you both would use it."

She studied him for a moment. "Did you hurt someone last night?"

He stared back at her. "No…"

"Then why are you leaving?"

"Oh." He let out a small sigh. "Because I _could have_ hurt someone. I'm not a teenager anymore, Chrys. I need to take responsibility for what I am."

Chrys tapped her fingers against her leg. "I think you're a very responsible person."

Lupin laughed. "I'm trying to be. That's why I've resigned. It will save Dumbledore the trouble of firing me—"

"Dumbledore wouldn't sack you!" Chrys thought. Lupin grimaced.

"Dumbledore has done enough for me. He did a lot over the years, and then last night he convinced Fudge that I was trying to stop Sirius—not help him. Of course, there is a limit to Dumbledore's influence. As soon as the parents start complaining, the Ministry will have to launch a formal inquiry, and I doubt Fudge will be so lenient with me again."

Her brow furrowed. "Why would the parents complain? Everyone says you're the best teacher Hogwarts has had in years—well, everyone except Malfoy, and he doesn't count."

"Draco Malfoy aside, they may have changed their minds after this morning," Lupin thought. Chrys frowned at him. "You haven't heard? Professor Snape told everyone what I am. I think he really wanted that Order of Merlin—"

"What?" Chrys leapt to her feet. "I knew I should've jinxed him!" Lupin raised an eyebrow at her. She flushed. "Well… besides everything else he's done, he won't give me back my dad's cloak. And I tried so hard to ask politely!"

Lupin frowned. "He took the Invisibility Cloak?"

"Don't worry," she said. "I've already got a plan to get it back! Well… half of a plan." Lupin cheered up a bit.

"I see…" He stood up. "Well, I have to leave soon, but I just wanted to tell you… I wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you, for what you did last night."

Chrys smiled. "Everyone was really brave… I think Harry and I really lucked out when we met Ron and Hermione on the train."

"Hmm." Lupin nodded. "I feel the same way about meeting your father… and Sirius." His brow furrowed. "We've got many years to make up for. Did you know that Sirius is Harry's godfather?"

"… Everyone keeps saying _Harry's_ godfather," Chrys noted. "Does that mean I don't have one?"

"You do have one…" Lupin said slowly. "I think most people in your generation have godparents. It was a dark time. People wanted their children to have someone to look after them if they…" He swallowed. "James and Sirius were like brothers, so it was no surprise that he named Sirius Harry's godfather. But Lily…" He smiled slightly. "Lily knew there was tension in our group. We knew that someone close to them was giving Voldemort information. Sirius thought it was me." Chrys frowned.

"Why?"

"Well… werewolves have never been fully accepted into wizarding society. Voldemort took advantage of that," Lupin told her. "He offered freedom and equality—which was completely hypocritical, of course… but people will believe anything if they're desperate enough. So… Dumbledore had me visit other werewolves and try to get them to see the light, so to speak. Sirius thought I was starting to be influenced by those people, instead of the other way around. Lily and James wouldn't hear of it. So, they made Sirius Harry's godfather, and they made me yours." Chrys blinked at him. "Frankly, I thought they'd gone mad. No one in their right mind should let me near a child… but your parents were always hard people to say no to."

Chrys broke into a smile. And then she jumped forward and hugged him. Lupin stiffened for a moment and then patted her back.

"Can I write to you?" She asked, as they drew apart. He nodded and smiled back at her.

"I'd like that."

Chrys had no time to write to him over the last week of term.

The night after Lupin left, Chrys and Harry stayed up late talking in the empty common room. He told her about the conversation he had with Dumbledore.

"He says he reckons Professor Trelawney's prophecy really was the real thing."

Chrys frowned and pulled out the scrap of parchment he'd written it down on.

"I'd almost forgotten about it."

"Well… it was a very busy day," Harry allowed. "But now… I can't stop thinking about it. Pettigrew escaped. He's going to find Voldemort and bring him back—_greater and more terrible than ever he was_." He ran a hand through his hair. "Dumbledore said it's not my fault, but it sure feels like it." Chrys poked him in the stomach. "What—" He laughed uncontrollably as she tickled him. "Chrys—quit it!"

She smiled for a moment and then looked him in the eye.

"Harry, even if it was your fault—which it's not! — You weren't the only one out there last night. We got into this mess together, and we'll get out of it together. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry said doubtfully. "I just wish… I mean, I know it seems silly in the scheme of things, considering Voldemort might be coming back… but I do wish we'd found the cloak."

She patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head—I'm working on it."

Chrys got Fred and George to help her sneak into Snape's office. She found the cloak locked in his desk drawer. And then she decorated the entire room with Gryffindor Quidditch banners. Well, she had told Fred and George it was for a prank—she didn't want to disappoint them.

Normally, the prank would've gotten a few more laughs, but people were more preoccupied with guessing how Sirius Black had escaped—except for Malfoy, who was more upset about Buckbeak.

And then they got their exam results back.

Percy stopped drafting letters to the Ministry about how badly they'd handled the whole Black situation in order to brag about his marks. Chrys decided not to look at hers until later, so she could enjoy the end of year feast.

Of course, Hermione hounded her as soon as they sat down in the train.

Chrys opened the envelope and slid out the heavy piece of parchment.

"Huh… that's not bad."

Hermione snatched up the parchment and frowned.

"Chrys, you could do so much better if you just studied more—or paid closer attention in class—"

Chrys sighed. "Hermione, even without Quirrell, or the Basilisk, or supposed serial killers after me—even then I have trouble focusing in class."

"Yeah, not everyone has your focus, Hermione," Ron agreed. Hermione squinted at him. "I'm just glad we all passed."

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I was sure Snape was going to fail me out of spite." He glanced sideways at Chrys. "At least he's avoiding you." It was true. Ever since Chrys had confronted him about the cloak, Snape wouldn't even look at her. "He looks at me like he wants to strangle me." Harry sighed. "I think he thinks I'm the one who 'decorated' his office." Chrys grinned guiltily.

"Oh, I'm sure Professor Snape wouldn't fail you…" Hermione trailed off at the looks the other three were giving her. "Oh… well… I suppose he might have thought about it, but Professor Dumbledore would never let him actually go through with it."

"On the other hand, your Muggle Studies teacher probably wants to adopt you," Chrys said to Hermione. Ron shook his head.

"Three hundred and twenty percent on your exam!"

Hermione flushed slightly. "Yes, well… Professor Burbage was disappointed when I told her I was dropping the class."

"What!" Ron said. Harry stared at her.

"How come?"

"I just…" Hermione let out a long breath. "I can't stand another year like this one. The time-turner was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again." Chrys patted her on the arm.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us about it," Ron grumbled. "We're supposed to be your friends." Hermione tensed.

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. Harry, you understand, don't you?" She looked at him. He was staring out the window thoughtfully. "Oh, cheer up, Harry!"

Harry blinked. "What? I'm okay. I was just thinking about the holidays."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about them too," Ron said. "Harry—you and Chrys have got to come and stay with us." Chrys smiled.

"Are you going to try and sneak us in again?" She teased.

"No." He waved his hand. "I'll fix it up with mum and dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now—"

"A _telephone_, Ron," Hermione corrected him. Chrys laughed. "Honestly, _you_ should take Muggle Studies next year…"

"It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer!" Ron continued excitedly. "How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

Chrys shook her head. "Quidditch…"

"Not just any Quidditch, Chrys—it's the World Cup!" Ron insisted. Harry laughed.

"Well, I'd like to come," he said. "And I bet the Dursleys will be pleased to let us go… especially after what I did to Aunt Marge…" Chrys frowned. "Hey." He nudged her side. "How about a round of exploding snap?"

Several rounds in, the food trolley arrived. Harry bought himself a bit of everything—except for the fudge. So Chrys bought some of that. Harry's nose wrinkled as he watched Ron and Chrys dig into a batch of double chocolate flavor with gusto.

"Haven't you two had enough chocolate this year?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really." He looked at Chrys.

"No such thing," she agreed. They grinned as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh." Hermione stood up suddenly. "Harry, what's that thing outside your window?" Everyone looked out the window at the grey ball of fluff that was fighting against the wind outside the train. Harry pulled open the window and snatched up the fluff—which proved to be a small owl clutching a letter twice its size. Ron closed the window.

The owl zipped around the compartment cheerfully. Hedwig hooted, not amused. Crookshanks sat up to watch the small owl. Ron grabbed the owl and held it out of the cat's reach. "Who's it from?"

"It's from Sirius!" Harry said excitedly.

"What?" Ron said.

"Read it aloud!" Hermione said as they crowded around him.

"_Dear Harry and Chrys," _Harry read.

"_I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post_."

Chrys snorted loudly. Hermione shushed her.

"_Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job."_

Chrys glanced at the owl, which was still hooting happily in Ron's fist.

"_I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted."_

Chrys smiled.

"_Harry, there is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt—"_

"Ha!" Hermione exclaimed. "See! I _told_ you it was from him."

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" Ron pointed out. "Ouch!" The small owl had nibbled on his hand.

"Go on," Chrys told Harry.

"_Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me," _he continued. "_I used your name, but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

_Chrys, I wasn't sure what to get you. Of course, that means even more presents once I get to know you properly." _

Chrys had a sudden horrible image of Dudley surrounded by birthday presents, whining that he wanted more.

"_I don't know if Remus told you, but James and Lily made him your godfather. You are both welcome to write to me whenever you like, but I may not be able to respond for a while—so if it's anything urgent, send your Uncle Moony an owl. He's always been the responsible one, and I've always been the fun one_."

Chrys laughed.

"_In the spirit of both fun and responsibility, I am enclosing something else for you two, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable."_

Chrys snatched up the envelope and tipped it upside down. Another strip of parchment fell out.

"_I'll write again soon,_

_Sirius_," Harry finished.

"Look!" Chrys smiled and held up the slip of parchment. "_I, Sirius Black, herby give Harry and Chrysanthemum Potter permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends." _

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" Harry thought. He looked back down at the letter. "Hang on, there's a P.S. … _I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat."_

Ron's eyes widened. "Keep him?" He studied the owl for a moment and then… held it out for Crookshanks to sniff. Harry and Hermione exchanged a surprised look. "What d'you reckon? Definitely an owl?" Crookshanks purred. "That's good enough for me." Ron smiled. "He's mine."

Harry held the letter all the way back to Platform 9 ¾ . When they slipped through the barrier, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting somewhat near Uncle Vernon.

He eyed them distastefully as Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry and Chrys.

"I'll call you about the World Cup!" Ron called after them as they went to join their uncle.

"What's that?" Uncle Vernon grunted, pointing at the letter. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another thing—"

"It's not," Harry said, smiling for some reason. "It's a letter from my godfather."

"Godfather?" Uncle Vernon repeated. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have," Harry told him. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though… keep up with my news… see if I'm happy." Chrys tried hard not to laugh as Harry wheeled his trolley towards the exit.

"Wait till he finds out _my _godfather is a werewolf!" She whispered.


End file.
